100 Prompt Challenge GrimmIchi
by Silver Eternity
Summary: Still tryin'a get over that writer's block, sooooo prompts it is! Enjoy.
1. Numbers 1 to 10

1. Romance

He had never known that his lover was known for his romantic gestures until he talked to the man's three previous girlfriends. The three had caught him alone while shopping and Orihime, sweet but blunt as she was, had asked him what Ichigo had used to "catch" him. Before he could get offended at the choice of terminology, she'd continued by recounting the long and subtle courtship he'd used with her, multiple sweet gestures throughout the day such as a single rose in her locker, a love note on her desk, and chivalry in all his dealings with her that was so gallant no man she'd met since could measure up. Tatsuki, grinning, had then broken in with examples of how the orange-haired young man would check up on her every other morning and evening, to make sure she was taking care of herself, and on nights he'd known she had Kendo practice he'd have fresh clothes, a steaming cup of her favorite tea, and a good book waiting for her on her living room table so she could unwind in peace- and that had been before they even dated! His first girlfriend, the stern and severe Nanao, blushed lightly when they inquired into why she'd ever agreed to go out with a rough-hewn muscle like Ichigo and answered in her 'this-is-the-only-answer-you-get' voice that he had been quite the gentleman, courting her the way a young man should court a young maiden. Tatsuki smirked and leaned on her shoulder, proclaiming loudly that she was just a sucker for good books and having flowers delivered to her every week, especially when it was from a man that serenaded her at her bedroom window anytime she asked him to. Grimmjow had been quite shocked.

When again they asked how Ichigo had managed to catch the blue-haired man, he had fidgeted uncomfortably with the jacket he'd picked from the rack. "I just sorta jumped 'im one day and it was supposed ta be a one-time thing but it kept happenin' so next thing I knew we were doin' it regular. He ain't ever done that stuff with me, I told 'im it was only casual from the start and 'e agreed." The girl looked at one another, then shook their heads. "Oh, poor Ichigo," Orihime breathed, making him look at her in surprise. "What?" Tatsuki glared, while Nanao gave him a pitying look. "You don't understand," Nanao said softly, "Ichigo doesn't understand the meaning of a 'casual relationship'." Tatsuki glared harder. "And even if he knows what it is, he would never practice it for the life of him! Ichigo doesn't _do_ casual, he _can't_ do casual. He gets himself involved with somebody and that person becomes his everything." He fidgeted more, thrusting the hanger and jacket back on the rack. "Well he does with me! He's never done any o' that romantic shit, an' I don't want him to! He's seein' someone other than me just like I'm fuckin' someone other than him- we agreed back at th'beginning we ain't exclusive." All three shook their heads this time, even Orihime looking angry, and they swept out of the store, leaving him alone. Later, back at home, which he had suddenly realized he'd somehow started sharing with Ichigo when he wasn't paying attention, he paced restlessly as he tried to figure out if they were telling the truth. When he'd started moving himself into Ichigo's place, one belonging at a time, the man had never said a word. People had claimed their 'love' for him before, in twenty different languages and situations, and Ichigo had never made a murmur. It just couldn't be true… could it?

Sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, fingers tugging at his hair, he stared sightlessly at the floorboards. When he thought about it some more, he realized a couple of little things he'd never really paid attention to before- for one, Ichigo never left the house without letting Grimmjow know where he was or where he would be if he wanted him. _Wanted_, not _needed_. And 'wanted' was certainly the right word, as the orange-haired intern had never refused him sex anywhere he wanted it, even when he was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Like that time in the linen closet at the hospital where they nearly got caught twice by nurses, that was fun. He never failed to respond to Grimmjow's calls or text messages, though it could sometimes take him a while if he was on duty, and Grimmjow's favorite things were always somewhere around when he wanted them. In fact, his favorite brand of booze, which Ichigo wouldn't touch for the life of him(he _swore_ American liquor did _shit_ to him and refused to speak of it no matter what Grimmjow promised in return), was always in the fridge or cupboard if he felt like drinking. Even the spare lube he kept in the jacket he'd thought Ichigo didn't know he owned because he only wore it when he was going out to find someone new to fuck, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, somehow was miraculously replaced when it was getting low, the condoms too. He'd figured he'd gone out and got some and just didn't remember, but now he suspected- was _sure_- that Ichigo was taking care of it for him even knowing perfectly well what they were for. He'd never made much of all the things Ichigo did for him before, but he'd never quite noticed all the little things that he took care of either.

Just as he came to this earth-shattering realization, he heard the door open and the twenty-three year old he'd just been contemplating entered the house, balancing a bag of groceries on one hip and carrying all this work stuff in the other hand. Suddenly feeling like a bastard, for reasons he'd rather not examine too closely, he rose from the couch and took the huge bag of work stuff, which was incredibly heavy. "I'll put this by the couch, you handle th'food. I don't want ya crushin' anything." Ichigo smiled at him, one of his special smiles that made his heart skip a beat, and thanked him before starting to put the food away. After completing his self-appointed task, Grimmjow leaned against the couch and watched as Ichigo started to set out the ingredients for dinner. _Dinner_, he realized with a start, not _his _dinner. Ichigo took care of him the way a housewife would, and never said a word of protest. How the fuck had he gone this long without noticing? "You going out tonight, Grimmjow?" He felt something in him lurch. What the intern was _really_ asking was if he planned to stay around long enough to eat and if he was going to go looking for a new fuck tonight, and he knew it. He'd just been too caught up in the pretense before to notice; Ichigo pretended he didn't know all the shit Grimmjow was doing and Grimmjow continued to believe he was in a casual relationship. "No. No, I'm crashin' here t'night," he muttered, raking his hand through his hair again. After a moment of silence, Ichigo quietly asked him what was wrong. Oh fuck, he knew his _nervous habits_, that didn't happen in a casual relationship! With anyone else he'd ever slept with, he didn't stick around long enough for them to catch on to them, and they weren't involved with him enough to give a shit or notice anyway. How deep in this _was_ he, exactly?!

Feeling suddenly panicked, Grimmjow stood by Ichigo at the counter, his hands clenched into fists. Ichigo had been careful about it; he'd never called him by the pet name 'Grimm' outside the bedroom, never hovered over him when he got injured in bar or street fights other than to patch him up, and never questioned his comings and goings. But now that he knew, he felt like the worst kind of prick for putting a man who loved him through the shit he'd been doing since he started screwing around with Ichigo. "Oi, Ichi….do ya love me?" The young man didn't so much as flinch, calmly flipping the steaks in the pan. "Yes." If the teal-haired male hadn't grabbed the counter just then, he'd have staggered from the shock. "How….h-how long?" Still, Ichigo remained steady as he added a can of peas to the pan as he turned the stove off. "Since the beginning. The day I met you, I was in love." Grimmjow needed to sit. He needed to sit _now_. Again Ichigo proved his perceptiveness, because as he turned to dispose of the can he nudged the older man into a nearby chair almost absently. "Then why did ya agree when I said I wanted casual fucks? Why din't ya _say_ sum'n, Ichi?" Dishing up the food, he chuckled. "Both of us know it would've made no difference, so why bother? I'm just going to be happy as long as you put up with me. Now eat- don't let it get cold." Obediently, he took the plate offered and started eating. He'd swore it was bullshit the first few times Ichigo told him microwaving changed the taste of the food, but then he'd _proven_ it so by this point he knew better than to let a meal get cold, especially one as good as Ichigo's.

They spoke no more about the subject after that night, and nothing changed. Ichigo still treated him with that oh-so-subtle loving, and Grimmjow kept periodically going to find someone new to screw up a wall. When Grimmjow moved all his stuff back to his own apartment, Ichigo never said a word. And when Grimmjow stopped calling him, stopped visiting, again there was no protest, no outcry for him not to leave. Later, much later, he found out that Ichigo had moved after earning his doctorate, which he had abruptly earned only weeks after Grimmjow had silently ended their arrangement. The only farewell he'd gotten was a bottle of his favorite liquor and a single, sharp-thorned rose in his dressing room the night his band got signed. Huh, it looked like he'd received one of Ichigo's famous romantic gestures after all.

2. Whore

Crouched on a rooftop, Ichigo the substitute shinigami wished desperately for a hollow to pop up. A good dozen of them. No, make that at least twenty-five, maybe fifty. He fairly radiated a furious energy that just _begged_ to be unleashed on some worthy prey, and the completely silent night only exacerbated his condition. Shifting his weight onto one leg, the opposite leg started bouncing rapidly, trying to burn off some of this fury, some of this restless need to _destroy_, before he went back to that room and that fucking whore and killed him and his customer. He'd suspected him of cheating, but not like that. God, never like that. If he'd just _told_ him, Ichigo wouldn't have cared- _no_, he couldn't go down that path. With an uncontrollable growl, he dug his nails into the tiles of the roof and shuddered with suppressed killing intent, forcing himself to hold position until an actual enemy showed up. With his eyes closed, his body statuesque, and his senses open as wide as he could force them, he was on Grimmjow so fast the Arrancar swore the kid was in Bankai. Grimmjow drew his favorite opponent to Hueco Mundo, and he was surprised when, once there, Ichigo let out a hollow-like scream and became encased in hollow armor, pouncing on a nearby weakling and tearing it to pieces. He did that for almost an hour before Grimmjow finally got his attention again. In his resurrection form, he crouched next to the still-mostly-hollowfied Ichigo and butted his head against the softly keening teen's shoulder. "So what set ya off like that, shinigami?" The keening stopped.

Flexing one blood-covered claw, Ichigo asked quietly, "Grimmjow, do you remember what a harlot is?" Grimmjow resisted the urge to duck away from those deadly claws….or lick them clean. The urges were almost equally strong. "Yeah. Used to call 'em two-bit wives where I came from." The thick lizard tail thumped the sand in agitation. "It turned out the one I was courting is one. I don't have an issue with that so much….that part I can't stand is _he never told me_. I wouldn't have cared, if he just…" He raked his claws through the sand. "I need to kill some more." Recognizing that restlessness as the same as what he himself suffered from, Grimmjow was quick to direct him to the Menos Forest. As he watched Ichigo decimate the ranks of some pretty powerful Gillian, he reflected that the teen's harlot would never know what he missed, the stupid fuck. It was hard to find a mate that didn't care about your dalliances but still cared about _you_, as he knew from experience. He couldn't help his promiscuous nature; the panther in him often demanded sex from whoever was nearest. It was like he was in constant heat, he swore. Hmmmm…maybe Ichigo would be interested in a personal whore- so long as he didn't lie about what he was. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Ducking underneath a Gillian arm that had been ripped off and tossed his way, he decided he'd make his proposal _after_ the shinigami's killing mood wore off. And he might want to take cover in the meantime.

3. Pet

The last thing Grimmjow had ever thought he'd want was a pet, much less a hybrid. And he certainly wouldn't have chosen anything other than a cat if he _did_, he had an affinity for those animals after all. But here he was, watching from the patio while his new lizard hybrid basked in the sun on a large rock in his backyard. He didn't know what he'd been thinking- oh right. He _hadn't_ been. He'd been too busy drowning in those fuckin' tea-brown eyes. The thick green tail waved back and forth lazily, and those amazing eyes opened to look up at him. "Sir? Do you wish something of me?" Grimmjow sighed. "Naw. Just lookin' at that kinky tail o' yers." To the human's surprise and gratification, the hybrid flushed a cherry red. "K-kinky?!" Oh oh _oh_, he'd found a lil' _virgin_ hybrid? He hadn't thought they could reach maturity and still be virgins! Suddenly in a much better mood about his unexpected purchase, Grimmjow crossed to the rock, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, baby, _kinky_. I'd be real interested in seein' exactly how flexible that tail really is…" his lecherous grin added a leer to it, "why don' we go inside and experiment a lil'?" The lizard was off the rock and backing up now, the long loincloth that was his only clothing swaying with his movements. "I don't think I want to go inside….sir," he added almost as an afterthought. Grimmjow's eyes lit up and Ichigo knew that couldn't be a good sign with how perverted his new Master apparently was. He was right. "I _knew_ you were a kinky lil' thing the minute I saw that tail. We can have our fun right out here too, pet. I ain't shy." Fifteen minutes of dodging later, Ichigo decided he hated the nickname "pet" more than anything else he'd ever been called.

4. Neighbors

Noting the moving truck in front of the empty house next door, Ichigo grabbed his bad and hurried out the door. He didn't have time to ponder who his new neighbor was right now, he needed to get to class. Of course, his luck was in full swing so he managed to slam into someone right outside his door. Apologizing, and helping the blue-haired man up, the orange-haired young man was surprised when the stranger introduced himself as a new college professor and asked for directions to Ichigo's college. He offered to walk him there, and the man grinned and said he'd be delighted. It turned out that Professor Grimmjow Jaggerjack was not only a professor, he was _Ichigo's_ new psychology professor! At the end of the semester several people accused Ichigo of getting his A grade because he just happened to be the Professor's boyfriend(they'd hooked up about four months into the semester after _endless_ pestering by Grimmjow), but when this accusation was made publicly Ichigo and Grimmjow exchanged a look, then laughed. "That's not why he got an A," Grimmjow said when he could breathe again, wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks, "tell 'em the real reason, Ichi." Chuckling, Ichigo smirked at the rest of the class. "He's my fuckin' next-door-neighbor. Fucker always knew when I didn't do my homework or hadn't studied, and he'd throw shit through my window until I stopped procrastinating. Hit me in the head a couple of times, too. But the real reason I got an A is pretty simple- he promised if I managed an A that I'd get to top." While the class stared at the pair, dumbstruck, they grabbed their bags and left, laughing all the way.

5. School

Grimmjow was the star jock. Ichigo was the street thug. These were their school classifications, and this is what had them at each other's throats. It was only after Grimmjow saw Ichigo take a knife to the ribs and a bullet to the shoulder for no other reason than the local delinquents didn't like his orange hair that he realized that perhaps there was more to the situation than what he saw on the surface. And it was after he saw Ichigo limp home, alone, not even attempting to ask anyone for help, that he started to wonder if maybe the teen's reputation had stemmed from a misconception rather than an actual tendency toward violence. And it was when he saw Ichigo at school the next day, his limp so well hidden you'd never see it if you weren't looking for it and his face set in it's usual scowl that was just the slightest bit strained at the corners of his mouth, that he convinced himself that Ichigo needed help and one way or the other, he was going to provide it whether the orange-haired male wanted it or not. That, of course, was when he went over to him, picked him up in one smooth move, and carried him to class. All questions were met with a snarl until it was Ichigo who asked, and to him the reply was a growled "Yer too sexy t'let walk around normally. Someone'll try ta jumping ya if I don't keep an eye on ya." Laughing at Ichigo's red face, Grimmjow carried him all that day and Ichigo refused to question him any further.

6. Food

Grimmjow had to admit, Ichigo cooked like a God. Since he couldn't boil water for ramen without setting something on fire, even something as simple as grilled ham and cheese was a feast fit for a king. It was beyond his ability, certainly. Still, there was nothing quite like the feasts the young man prepared whenever he knew something momentous was up, like when Grimmjow told him he was going to ask for a raise so Ichigo could quit his second job and still keep the apartment. He'd come home that night to a roast and five sides, and he didn't think he'd ever eaten that well in his life before. Still, he never told Ichigo that he worked so hard to advance at his business not because of the bigger paycheck, but because of the fantastic meals that kept topping the one before for every little step up the achievement ladder he got. He was almost afraid to make partner; the cooking of the meal alone would take a full day for all the food he imagined Ichigo would make, and it would take them two weeks to work their way through. Of course, if he ever made _boss_ it would be a feast from medieval times, he was sure.

7. Boating

He was laughing his ass off, but between gales of laughter he _did_ attempt to apologize. Grimmjow would never get over this, he knew it in his bones, but it wasn't what he'd intended! Hell, how was he supposed to know that Grimmjow would run over some kid's pet duck his first time out in a boat?! Still, grinning, he watched said duck swim away with a few angry quacks and leaned over to pat the blue-haired man's shoulder comfortingly. "Look Grimm, it's fine. You didn't kill it." Grimmjow groaned and lowered his head further, face still hidden in his hands. His muffled "fuck you and fuck boats" was not lost on Ichigo, who only laughed harder.

8. Flying

With every wing beat, Grimmjow could feel his stomach flip. With every tail twist, his heart leapt into his throat. He didn't have the heart to ask to be let down though- the new Cero Espada (formerly substitute shinigami Ichigo Kurosaki) had unlocked his second resurrection form and it was a full-fledged _dragon_, and he'd been so excited that he wanted to show Grimmjow and asked him to go flying with him. Not only was this his superior, this was _Ichigo_. If the Cero wanted to go flying, how could Grimm tell him that he couldn't stand extreme heights?

9. Best Friends

They'd been friends from the birthing den, always having each other's backs (or as was sometimes the case, tails) whether it was against an enemy or their own disapproving elders. Grooming between Ichigo's ears, Grimmjow silently blessed the disastrous fire that had forced their pregnant mothers into the same birthing den, because the cubs of a panther and lion would have met no other way. Nudging his litter-mate onto his side, he began grooming Ichigo's flanks and the orange lion let him, huffing a little in irritation. Though almost adults by now, Ichigo hadn't shown any signs of wanting to break from his friendship with Grimmjow and the black big cat showed no inclination to strike off on his own. It was then, after observing several animals and their mates (it was spring after all) that Grimmjow thought that maybe Ichigo was the mate he chose. Only hours later, after watching Ichigo viciously chase off fifteen other adolescent and adult lion males from the territory he shared with Grimmjow, the panther felt his ears lying flat and his tail bottlebrushing; he decided privately that he was _really_ glad he'd never bothered arguing the lion's dominance. Grooming between his claws to remove the blood from his last hunt, he also decided he wouldn't be challenging it anytime in the future and he was very, very glad that _Ichigo_ had chosen _him_.

10. Music

As the Espada streaked through the air, searching for his favorite shinigami, he'd been surprised when the reiatsu led him not to a park or other deserted place, or even the kid's den, but a strange small building that fairly _radiated_ noise. Covering his ears with his hands, he kicked open one of the upper windows and entered, trying to get a more definitive bead on where the fuck the owner of the reiatsu field he was standing in the middle of was. He found him after only a moment of looking, but that was only because people were beginning to back away from him. He was moving in a way Grimmjow had never seen before, a way he hadn't known anything _could_ move, and it was far better than anything the humans were trying. It was like they were trying to copy what he was doing and failing miserably. In the middle of the circle was Kurosaki, twisting and thrusting and grinding against the air, and somehow that movement woke something primal in him that he hadn't felt since he was still a panther adjucas. A human approached, sidled up to Ichigo and tried to move against him, move with him, but couldn't keep up and dropped away again after only a moment. Was this what humans and soul reapers meant by 'dancing'? The movements seemed to be matched to the beat of the noise in his ears, and Grimmjow found himself drawn down into the crowd, up against the moving shinigami, his hands somehow finding their way to those sweet hips and ignoring the roar in his ears that came with that action. He wasn't sure if that roar came from the blood that was rushing through his body or the noise of the club around them. Despite his own incredible speed and flexibility, it took all his concentration to keep up with the lithe teenager, who continued to move without ever opening his eyes to see his dance partner. This single scene would later dominate Grimmjow's mind during the fight with Ichigo in Hueco Mundo, marked by the heat, the scent of Ichigo, the feel of him under his hands, and that constant, pounding music.


	2. Numbers 11 to 20

PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM, IT IS RATHER IMPORTANT AND I WANT _NO CONFUSION_ LATER PLEASE!

11. Booze (set in the "Romance" universe and prequel to Romance)

Grimmjow had known better than to doubt Ichigo's word when the young man had told him that American liquor did shit to him, but he'd never really known how much it did exactly. Only three shots of tequila and suddenly this sexy, ravenous beast was in his lap, devouring him. Unused to such aggressive behavior from his sex kitten, he found himself unwillingly submitting- in the middle of a crowded bar. He might be an exhibitionist, sometimes, but that was too much. And Ichigo would kill him later if he let the younger man seduce him in public and on top of a bar. So he downed his drink, talked Ichigo into another shot, whispered a few filthy suggestions in his ear that normally would've had him blushing but in this particular situation made him growl and seize Grimmjow by the hips, and let his favorite fuck drag him home and screw him through the floor, up a wall, into the mattress, and against the shower tile. Not only was it the first time he'd let someone top him, it was when he started to learn exactly how good it was to bottom when you had someone who knew what the fuck they were doing on top. Afterwards, with Ichigo taking care of him because he couldn't walk, he eyed a miniature bottle of what he had learned was Ichigo's favorite kind of tequila and wondered how he could get it into Ichigo's system after he was all healed up and in the mood to go another round.

12. Gargoyle

With a great roar, Ichigo shed his daily stone skin and stretched, tail waving happily as his wings stretched toward the sky. Flexing his arched feet to stretch his talons, he dropped into a comfortable crouch and peered over the edge of the ramparts to see what had happened during the day. The stench of blood was alarmingly potent this evening, and he found the source of the smell was the Captain of the castle Guard, a brawny blue-haired human known to the Gargoyles as Grimmjow. He was sitting on the steps that led to their aerie; humans could reach their day perches by no other path. Worried, the young Gargoyle glided down to see if he was alright. "Grimmjow. Sir Grimmjow!" The blue head jerked up a little, the oceanic blue eyes fastening on Ichigo and immediately displaying relief. "Dusk a'ready, Ichigo? I'm glad." Rolling his eyes again at the name the foreigner had assigned to him, 'One Protector', he scooped the human into his arms with his superior Gargoyle strength and carried him inside, calling for the healer and the Mage at the top of his voice. After five hours of work, the warrior was finally healed and stable, leaving him vulnerable to Ichigo's questions. "Why are you in this condition? And why were you at the bottom of the steps that allow humans to access our aerie?" Grimmjow grinned at him weakly. "Th'Scots staged a day raid. They've their own clan of Gargoyles an' knew ta attack durin' th'day. I couldn' let 'em get up ta where yer clan sleeps, I couldn' stand th'thought of 'em smashin' ya. They breached the first wall an' if I hadn't been 'ere they'da got ya…..an' I couldn' let 'em smash my favorite Gargoyle, now could I?" Up to that point, he hadn't known Gargoyles could blush.

Regardless of his embarrassment, Ichigo let himself stay crouched next to the human's bed, the human's pale hand stroking his long orange mane. Grimmjow passed out at some point, and he woke many hours later, when the sun was shining brightly into his sickroom. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to talk to Ichigo on waking, as he was confined to bed rest until further notice, but that was when he noticed the massive stone statue at his bedside, an all-too-familiar crouching Gargoyle with wings tucked close to his back. He had asked once why Ichigo and the others struck such strange, fearsome poses before going to sleep, and he had been told it was because it made it easier to stretch the stiffness out of their muscles. Touched by the dedication Ichigo showed, Grimmjow managed to get his hand back into the snarled mane, which interestingly enough had an impression in the stone that perfectly cradled his hand. Had the youngling let him touch him even as he turned to stone in the dawn light? Such was an honor that no human had known, as it required an extreme degree of trust that no human had earned. Even the Gargoyles did not touch each other when it was time to sleep unless they were mates. Just then the sun set, and beneath his hand he felt cracks spider-webbing through the stone skin. The statue burst into life beneath his touch, body quivering with the roar he knew was held back for the sake of those sleeping in the infirmary.

Shaking himself like a wet dog, the Gargoyle sent the last shards of his stone skin scattering. Twisting his body and extending his wings as far as they would go, he had just decided himself suitably stretched when he felt something touching his tail. Something _warm_ was touching his tail. He curbed his natural instinct to pounce on it, remembering he was in the infirmary and a curious child could be innocently wondering why the 'pretty tribesman' had a tail. Goodness, that had been an embarrassing night. Looking over his shoulder and past his wings, he found that his guardsman friend was the one touching him. Keeping in mind that the man was injured and quite likely dosed with laudanum, he gently extracted his tail from the human's grip. At the drowsy, confused expression on Grimmjow's face, Ichigo chuckled and thrust his cheek against the hand instead, as it was still hovering in the air. "Gargoyles have very sensitive tails," he softly explained, as he often did to his human shadow, "and it is the touch of either a mate or a rookery sibling that is allowed. Unless you want to be considered my claimed mate and bound to me by the Clan's laws until one of us dies, I suggest you keep your hands off my tail outside of emergencies." Grimmjow appeared to think this over for a moment, then his hand slid up into Ichigo's hair to pull him closer, his other hand finding and winding the Gargoyle's tail around his fist. "But I do 'ave an emergency, Ichi…I've gone and fell in love like a stupid fuck. I went an' fell in love with _you_, Ichigo……now if that ain't an emergency, what th'hell is?" Thus the first Gargoyle-Human mated pair not only opened the doors to crossbreeding, but for same-gender couples throughout all of Ireland.

It wouldn't be until several years later that it was discovered that Human-Gargoyle pairs were immortal, or that they would have children in alternating births- human child one pregnancy, Gargoyle egg the next. It also found to Ichigo and Grimmjow's delight that male Gargoyles could get pregnant, even by human partners.

13. Doctor

After the Winter War was won and he was abandoned by his soul reaper friends, Ichigo had always been restless. The town was absolutely soaked in his reiatsu, and the mix of Hollow within that reiatsu marked it as his territory, making Hollows of anything below adjucas class stayed far the fuck away, so there weren't a lot of opponents he could take his restless energy out on either. To get his adrenaline fix, and with his deep-seated need to protect that which was his (and often that which _wasn't_), he wound up following his Dad's footsteps to become a doctor and then became exclusively an ER doctor. Too long doing quick patch-ups and field training had sunk into his psyche and there was nobody faster than he when it came to stopping the decline of someone bleeding to death. He was also the only doctor in the ER who had never had to step out to puke after a particularly nasty case came in. Renji and Ishida after Szayel was through with butchering their internal organs had been left to him until Unohana showed up, and literally holding and stitching someone's organs back together in the middle of a battlefield more than topped any car accident or gang fight patient he'd ever see. At the end of another quintuple-shift, which he was known for because if necessary he could manage six 18-hour shifts back to back and still function, he shucked his scrubs and coat, cleaned off the blood that had soaked through his clothes, and headed for home. Having spent seven years completely cut off from the world of spirits, he was taken by surprise by the appearance of a blue-haired rival from Hueco Mundo outside the hospital when he left.

Staring up at Grimmjow, Ichigo looked at him blankly for a moment before laughing and shaking his head. Gesturing for the Espada to follow him, he walked home to his cold, dark, sparse single-story. When the panther hesitated outside the door, Ichigo used the come-hither gesture he'd seen a thousand times and never thought he'd use, sticking his arm out the door and using his index finger to gesture his guest inside. Grimmjow heeded the encouragement, and Ichigo laughed to himself at the thought of him and Grimmjow in the situation in which that gesture was usually used. Coming into the living room with two steaming cups of coffee, he set one on the table in front of his most comfortable chair and used his now-free hand to shove Grimmjow into the seat before taking a seat himself. At the panther's irritated exclamation, his answer was a blunt, "Couldn't let you stand while I sit, it's a psychological thing. Now, I just got off working 90 hours without a break or any sleep from the Emergency Room. I'm in no condition to fight if that's what you want, not until I've slept and eaten. If that's not what you came for….well, I'm listening." Looking uncharacteristically off-balance, Grimmjow wrapped his hands around the cup and eyed his rival. "Just wanted t'see what yer up ta lately, shinigami. What do ya do in this…Emergency Room?" Ichigo took a sip of the bitter black brew he was so addicted to. "What all doctors do, I suppose, just under more pressure and in less time." Now distinctly confused, Grimmjow's blue brows drew together. "What's a doctor?"

14. Teacher

Running a dojo and teaching kids how to fight for their lives with swords, spears, and any other weapon they could bring him hadn't been what Ichigo had thought he'd be doing at forty-five, but that's what he was doing. He was overseeing the general practice sessions, the full-scale physical Zangetsu he'd had casted resting comfortably on his back, when a new but oh-so-familiar face entered the dojo, quietly and with deference to authority he'd never displayed in his previous life. "Kurosaki-Sensei? I was told you take any student truly dedicated to learning his art…have I interrupted your training class?" Ignoring the lump in his throat, Ichigo answered quietly, "No, you haven't interrupted anything. Which of the Attack Arts do you wish to learn?" His eyes respectfully on the floor, the newcomer grasped the hilt of the sword in his belt. "The Art of Swordsmanship, Master." Closing his eyes, Ichigo nodded and gestured the teen into his private training rooms. "Then we'll have to see how proficient you are with Pa- with that blade of yours to begin with. Your name?" Holding his sword tighter and wondering if Swordmaster Kurosaki had been about to say 'Pantera', the trainee-hopeful followed him into the back room. "I am Grimmjow Jaggerjack, sir." He did not fail to notice the hard shudder that went though his new sensei at the name. "…I think yer made for that sword, Grimmjow." Wondering why the sword master said his name so familiarly, and easily, like he'd been saying it for years, Grimmjow bowed his head deferentially and forced his voice to stay soft and smooth. "I'll trust that to your instincts, Teacher."

15. Reincarnation

Sick of the blue-haired ghost that followed him around like a lost puppy, Jurino Katsure finally lost his temper and grabbed the ghost by the lapels of his tattered white jacket, dragged him into an alleyway, and shoved him forcefully into the brick. Snarling, he demanded to know why the _fuck_ he wouldn't leave him alone. The stranger smiled at him sadly, bringing his arms up to hold the young man close to his chest in a strange embrace that, though strained, was extremely loving. "I've known you seven times, by seven names, over seven lifetimes. The first time I knew you, your name was Ichigo Kurosaki. That is who I remember you as. You and I were lovers, six lifetimes ago… but each of these reincarnations of you lacks the memories no matter how I've prodded your recall." With a bitter laugh, the stranger grabbed Jurino's left hand and laced the fingers with his own, showcasing their matching rings for the younger man. "And like a goddamn fool, you talked me into promising forever and always, through all yer fuckin' human reincarnations. If I didn't love ya so much, shinigami, I'd really hate you." Jurino winced, his free hand clapping to his temple. After a few moments of grimacing and a couple of pained grunts, the familiar bronze eyes blinked and looked up into cyan, a slow smile breaking out on the previously scowling lips. "Took you six fuckin' lifetimes to figure out the trigger phrase I set, jackass," Ichigo chuckled, drawing his beloved closer, "who knew it would take that long for you to have the balls to remind me you love me?"

16. War

This thing they were calling the Winter War, the battles against Aizen, the plotting and the subterfuge…. All it was, really, was a glorified nightmare. A _waking_ glorified nightmare. Pacing the perimeter of the city because he just couldn't sleep these days, Ichigo had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his sword on his back. He could draw fast enough to kill any minor hollows that popped up, but he was so exhausted that if it wasn't completely and totally necessary, he wasn't fighting anyone tonight. Pausing on his walk to stand still and press the heels of his hands into his eyes, he ignored the abrupt explosion of reiatsu as he continued the walk the path he'd managed to imprint on his eyelids over the past few weeks. He didn't give a fuck if Grimmjow came after him with sword drawn and fraccion flanking; he wasn't fighting the battle-happy bastard tonight. "Oi Kurosaki-"

"Fuck off, Jaggerjack; it's four in the morning living world time, I haven't slept in three days, and I am _not_ in the mood for your shit." Grimmjow, oddly enough, looked affronted and surprised all at once, sort off like a cat when you flick its nose or something it finds equally repulsive. "I, uh, was jus' gonna say ya look like shit an' oughta be getting' some sleep 'stead of running 'round the livin' world," the Espada muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, "but it looks like ya a'ready know that." Ichigo laughed bitterly, purposely ignoring the fact that Grimmjow was walking with him now. "Yeah, I know that. Adolescent humans aren't made to deal with war, Grimmjow, and it shows."

17. Rebel

Well, he hadn't really _meant_ to start a rebellion against Soul Society just because he defied the Central 46, but it looked like that's what he'd done. After being named the Rebel Leader, he'd gone and set up a base in Hueco Mundo, and that was where he sat at present, on top of the seven-foot-tall tombstone-like structure that served as his command post and 'throne'. A motley assembly of hollows, shinigami, viziards and Arrancar were gathered beneath, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger to try and stave off the headache he knew was coming. Why hadn't he put stop to this insanity already? "Ichigo-san, are you unwell?" Oh yeah, that's why. Sighing, he let his hand drop from his face and gave Ulquiorra a tired smile. "Just irritated and stressed as usual, Ulquiorra. How's the mood among the troops?" The pale Arrancar that served as one of his best generals shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "They grow restless, sir, and agitated. Most of the hollow-based beings are demanding to know why you have not launched a full-scale attack." Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "The generals included?" At the distinctly uncomfortable nod, he sighed and gestured the slim male to sit next to him. "Do I need to establish my authority again or will a meeting of the generals be enough to quell the murmurs of unrest?" The Cuarta blushed, remembering the powerful and primal display that had earned the teen immediate dominance over almost all the gathered hollow-based creatures. "A m-meeting should be enough, sir." The Death Berry chuckled at the blush and kissed the smaller man's forehead affectionately. "Alright then, run along to my territory while I gather the other generals." Blushing even harder, Ulquiorra scampered off as ordered.

Ichigo sighed fondly, thinking to himself that Ulquiorra was a good kid and it had been worth it to defy Central 46 to save his life after the little one had switched sides and brought down Aizen. Standing and bellowing at the top of his considerably loud voice to summon his officers, he never noticed the pair of cerulean blue eyes watching him from the ground, nor that those eyes flared with jealousy whenever they landed on Ulquiorra. Grimmjow, Ichigo's second-best general, growled under his breath as he heeded the summons of his leader, hoping fervently that they went to battle soon so he could outshine that pale pansy and become the most favored general. After all, everyone knew that Ichigo gave his favors where he willed, but being the best general gave you much better opportunities because you got to spend a lot of time with him going over battle plans alone in his territory. (Note: as they're in the middle of Hueco Mundo, "territory" is the equivalent of private quarters, and in Ichigo's case it also counts as his Meeting Tent if he wants to talk to someone privately.)

18. Riot

He hadn't meant for this to happen. This was what he'd been trying to stop, trying to _avoid_, and it seemed he'd brought it about while trying to stop it. He should've known it wouldn't work- pirates had always been prone to rioting, especially if they thought Navy was nearby. He supposed the Navy officer coat he'd taken from that fucker that tried to kill him two days ago (Noai-tra or something) wasn't exactly helping. Figuring there was nothing else for it, he drew his sword in one hand and a pistol in the other and started fighting his way out. Once safely back on his ship, covered in blood and a considerable amount of gore, he called to his crew though the riot so loudly his voice cracked. He watched them trickle back onto the ship one by one, and as they cast off he stayed perched in the rigging, pistol reloaded and held ready. His gaze raked the crowd, and the bright blue hair of the moron that had started a riot caught his eye, the man still rabble-rousing even as he fought off the other men five and six at a time. Ichigo trained his pistol on that bastard, who'd apparently started all this madness for the fun of it, and aimed right between the eyes. The stranger seemed to sense this, because at that moment he swung around and stared Ichigo straight in the eye, cyan to amber. After a moment, Ichigo sighed and tucked the pistol back into his belt and climbed down from the rigging. "Uh, Cap'n? Why'd ya let 'im go? I never seen ya let a man live afta ya got 'im in yer sight, sir." Grabbing a rope and making it into a loop, which he then used his considerable strength to fling back onto the dock, where the stranger was waiting to catch it, Ichigo grinned.

"Ya wouldn' believe what a man like 'im can say wit' his eyes, Renji, an' 'e tells me he's a good shot an' a strong enough fighter ta be of use ta me. He also promised on 'is black 'eart that if he betrays me, he'll die like a man at my 'and. An me, well," he smirked as the muscled stranger finally hauled himself over the rail, "I'm a good enoug' shot t'let ya prove everythin' yer eyes say."

19. Bruises

Not everyone understood what it meant to be bruised down to your bones, but that was something Ichigo was deeply familiar with. Even as a kid, when Tatsuki was still kicking his ass every day, he'd known what it was to be hurting so bad you could barely move, even if it looked like little or nothing on the outside. This, however, definitely looked about as bad as it felt, Ichigo mused as he eyed the black-purple bruises that was splotched over his skin from head to toe. Turning a little to assess the damage in the mirror, he hissed at the one on his back covering nearly solid from shoulders to beltline- oooh, that one was really something, wasn't it? The hot shower had made him feel a little better, less stiff at least, but the heat had really brought the blood out, making the bruising stand out against his tan skin all that much more. He'd just gotten into bed, dressed in nothing but some light sleep pants to keep pressure off his skin, when his hollow badge started screaming. With an irritated huff, he snatched it and freed his soul, tucked his body in (he would want to go to sleep _immediately_ when he got back) and headed out. As he came up on Grimmjow, he was yawning from the late hour and lack of sleep, which is why he missed the Arrancars' expression change from bloodthirsty to irritated and from irritated to furious in only a moment. When he closed his mouth, he used the hand not holding his sword to rub at his eye and noted the furious expression. "Ya can't oust a human outta bed at two in the mornin' an' not expect him t'be tired, Grimmjow," he said irritably, "so don't look so goddamn offended. I'm human, I need sleep, and I ain't slept in three nights so I'm gettin' pretty damn sick of this. I like a good fight, but I'm _tired_."

His expression changing to confused, the Espada stared at him for a moment, frowning. "Shinigami, don't ya realize what ya look like?" Ichigo's answer came from around another yawn. "Other than exhausted and like shit?" Grimmjow spat, which was strange only because he wasn't spitting blood nor in Ichigo's direction, and stuffed one hand in his pocket, the other grabbing Ichigo's free hand. "Yer beat all t'hell, Kurosaki. 'Ave ya seen yerself lately? Yer in no condition t'give me a good fight like this." Pulling the hand up in front of the teenager's face, the orange-haired male saw the bruising that had been present on his human body and his eyes widened. "Shit, I knew they got me good, but not good enough to bruise my _soul_ along with my _body_! Goddamn! Knew that fucker with the pipe was trouble, and the guy with the chain too. Fuuuuuck…" Shaking his head, he extracted his hand from Grimmjow's grip and stepped back a little. "Doesn't matter anyway, I've fought you with worse." The blue eyebrows came together so fast Ichigo swore there should've been a loud clap to accompany it. "I ain't never seen ya like this, shinigami, what the hell you talkin' about?" Seeing as Grimmjow apparently was after answers more than a fight, the younger swung his sword up to rest it on his shoulder. "Well, usually it doesn't show up and especially not on my soul body, but this," he indicated the bruising on his body with a sweeping gesture, "is standard operating, more or less. I can't remember the last time I've been completely without bruises and I haven't gone into a fight entirely uninjured in _years_. What's the big deal? You look like I just told you I've been holding back half my power all this time."

Fisting his hands in his own hair, Grimmjow snarled. "Ya _are_! Bein' totally rested and uninjured before goin' inta battle is half th'fight! Ya were fightin' with less than full strength from the beginnin' an' it pisses me off!" Yawning again, this time it was with enough force to make Ichigo sway on his feet and the blunet steadied him. "Easy Kurosaki, easy. C'mon, let's get you home and in bed." Yawning yet again, Ichigo staggered home with Grimmjow's support, thinking to himself that if the Arrancar was going to wait until his bruises healed to fight him, he'd be waiting a long, long time.

20. Rider

Sitting on the gate fence with his leather boots propped on one of the lower bars, Ichigo tipped his hat forward so the brim shaded his eyes and eyed the brawny red-head that was riding Fury and, predictably, having a hard time of it. There he went, crashing to the ground after only four seconds and nearly being trampled beneath the bull's large hooves. The only one who'd ever managed to stay on Fury the full eight seconds was Ichigo himself, and that was only after years of being thrown around by bulls, broncos, and boyfriends. Of course, for the past three years it'd only been the bulls and broncos as he followed the Rodeo from city to city. He'd got sick of the boyfriends beating on him after the fifth or sixth and had sworn them off until further notice. It was a pity about the redhead though, he was kinda cute. But Ichigo had made a private vow that he wouldn't consider anyone until they'd managed to stay on Fury the full eight seconds. Unlike other bulls, it took a gentle touch to keep Fury calm enough not to buck you completely off, and anyone who could use that gentle touch might just be the kind of boyfriend that wouldn't start smacking him around first thing. That would be nice. Very nice. Hearing them call him up, he looked down at the white horse he'd be riding and grinned. "C'mon, Shiro," he drawled, "give yer King a real ride so we can give this here audience a show." The horse snorted and danced in the gate, then shook itself restlessly. He always got antsy when his rider was Ichigo; the professional rider swore that horse was smart enough to understand human speech most days. Then again, maybe he was- god knew he could do everything else with little trouble, from figuring out how to get at a breeding mare to ramming or bucking anyone Ichigo distrusted and thoroughly trampling them into the dirt.

Climbing on, Ichigo anchored his heels against the girth of the saddle and wrapped his left hand around the saddlehorn, set his hat more firmly on his head and gave Shiro a little squeeze. "Remember not to hurt yerself out there like that muscle-bound brute Zaraki, baby, don't work so hard at gettin' me off ya that ya break two legs like he did, that moron. He'll heal perfectly, by the way, just won't be able to participate in any more rodeos for a year or so while the bone sets fully." Shiro shook his head and snorted, apparently insulted to be compared to a horse so stupid he'd broken both his forelegs when he tried so hard to buck his rider he'd flipped his entire body around and tumbled tail over head, nearly breaking his back. The only reason he hadn't broken his spine was his forelegs had snapped at the perfect moment and brought him to earth, thus saving him from bucking his back violently in two. Before Ichigo could reply to the snort, the gate opened and the albino horse shot out, bucking and jumping for all he was worth, eyes rolling, head tossing, the entirety of his body rippling like water. His orange haired rider held on to the saddlehorn with one hand and his hat with the other, a whoop of surprise and joy and maybe a little nervousness bursting from his throat before he could control it or modulate it. Shiro picked up on his ever-so-slight nervousness and responded, escalating his jumps and twists, but never so far that Ichigo feared the horse would hurt himself. When the albino finally tired himself out (after numerous bucks, jumps, twists, and three flips that _scared Ichigo out of his goddamned mind_) and stood in the middle of the ring, panting like he'd just run the Kentucky Derby at full tilt, the cowboy on his back clicked his tongue with a note of authority and coaxed the exhausted bronco into a walk with a gentle press of his heels.

Obeying the directions of his rider's knees and heels, Shiro let himself be steered back to gate and then stable, where he knew his grooms were waiting to rub him down, walk him, and then feed and water him. Had it been anyone else he'd simply have waited until their grip loosened and _then_ bucked them off, but Ichigo was the one he called King. Well, that and Ichigo didn't let up until Shiro was held by both grooms and he was actually _off_ the horse. That heels-set-against-the-saddle-girth trick made it damn near impossible to buck him when he was also holding the saddlehorn, and the few times he had been bucked (mind you, this was before he had too much experience) while using that method, it had prevented him from getting anything caught anywhere on the horse, which saved him from extreme injury or death by trampling, which had happened to other riders who weren't as smart as the college graduate with a degree in physics that just so happened to have orange hair and rode Shiro every chance he got. Swinging off and down in one fluid movement, Ichigo grabbed a towel and brush and started helping with the rub down. When finished, he patted Shiro's flank fondly with a grin. "That was quite th'theatric show, babe. If I didn't know better, I'd swear ya were trying to _top_ Zaraki in stupidity. Honestly, flips? With a _rider_? Yer lucky ya didn't break yer neck and kill us both." Shiro snickered, which came out as a whicker, and flicked his tail so it hit his favorite cowboy in the head. True, that had been a bit more than necessary, but if a trick show pony could manage it (admittedly without rider) then so could Shiro. He'd practiced in the paddock for _weeks_ to make sure he could pull it off, after all. He laughed at that thought.

After he was fed and watered, Shiro put his head over the door so he could talk to the blue-black stallion down the aisle- he was a fighter and more importantly a _biter_, so he'd been separated from the other horses. "Oi Grimmjow, I hear Zaraki will recover fine and be back with us after a year or so. Ain't he lucky, breakin' both legs an' still able to compete." Grimmjow tossed his head, teeth gleaming as he bared them in what would be a predatory smile in a human. "Lucky ain't th'half of it. Not only does he not lose the competition, he gets t'be waited on hand an' hoof by the pretty vets overseein' his recovery." Shiro sighed, though it sounded more like a snort. "That's not all- King, or rather, Ichigo, attends t'the injured personally 'long as they ain't gonna gore 'im; tha's what I heard from Fury an' th'other bulls, anyway. He's more concerned with our well-bein' than mosta our owners are….an' we both know Zaraki's gonna take the chance to cozy up t'him every chance he gets." Grimmjow snapped at the wood of his stall, expression furious as he tore off and spit out chunks of it. "Goddamn bastard, how dare he? He knows Ichi's off-limits until we're done with th'competition! We agreed he oughta be courted properly- dated an' loved an' married th'human way, not our way. Bein' pursued by a God is one thing, but by a God pretendin' t'be a horse for the sake of a bet is _quite_ anotha!" He bucked out of sheer frustration, his powerful kick nearly breaking the back of his (reinforced) stall. "'Sides, a man like Ichi needs a steady, firm man, an' Zaraki is unstable an' overbearing." Shiro shook himself, mane whipping as his neck twisted.

"Actually, I don' think any o' us could ever win King over, even as human men, an' I know fer a _fact_ he woul' outright reject an' fight a firm hand." At Grimmjow's curious head tilt, Shiro explained, "I been close t'Ichi from th'beginnin'. He talks t'me. Best I kin figure, he's been submittin' ta an alpha male all his romantic life an' fer most of his adult one, and every single onea them bastards abused his willin' submission, hurtin' him in ways he din't like, smackin' 'im around, and makin' him take care o' them instead of tendin t'his needs with the exception o' his father, but even his Sire was a whack-job an' attacked 'im at odd moments. He's come up wit' some kinda test that's gotta be passed b'fore he'll even _consider_ someone fer datin', an' though I don' know what it is, I'm pretty sure we couldn' pass it. He's been 'urt too much by forceful men; if there's anythin' he don't need in a man an' a mate, it's firmness. He'd kill any man who tried t'exercise power or dominance over 'im now an' I can't say I blame 'im." Mind dancing with images of faceless muscle head men beating on the sweet, loving, gentle Ichigo, Grimmjow felt almost like crying for the pain the young man had suffered. "Yeah, me neither. Me neither." Closing his eyes, Grimmjow rested his cheek against the damaged doorposts and tried to erase the foul images with his favorite fantasy- the powerfully muscled, steel-core Ichigo he was familiar with being folded into his human arms and melting into the soft, delicate, sensitive young man with a heart of gold that he'd once seen tending to another injured horse. That softness, that sweetness, in what was normally such a hard, unyielding, too-strong-for-his-age young man was what Grimmjow imagined a lover would know of the orange-head. Only a lover or perhaps a husband would be trusted enough to see Ichigo drop his guard enough to relax those iron muscles and retract that core of steel from his soul that made him one of the most skilled rodeo riders in the country.

A/N: for the record, the base idea for Gargoyles as a species did indeed come of the 90's series "Gargoyles" and I DO NOT OWN THAT SPECIES NOR THE IDEA, only the whole male-Gargoyles-get-pregnant-even-by-human-males thing is mine. Note my mention of the Scottish Gargoyles- that would be GOLIATH'S CLAN before the betrayal and they will, by the way, be making an appearance later. Further, for the record, I have never had the pleasure of attending a rodeo and have absolutely _no idea whatsoever_ how the bronco-riding goes and thus my vagueness, if I have anything wrong PLEASE do not bother correcting me as the way I have it written makes the story for further installments of "Rider". The only reason I know you're supposed to stay on a bull for eight seconds is because it's in many many many songs and I have seen, briefly as my father channel-flipped, one or two guys ride and get thrown. I also, as one can most likely realize, have no idea how it works when the horse or bull is removed from the ring; where they go, how they are cared for, no clue, BUT this sets my story for the parts that come after so please do not ask me to change it because I'm acknowledging here and now that I am writing that part out of my ass and it's probably completely wrong. If you feel the need to point out my mistakes, please message me and do not flame or next time I'll get it wrong on purpose.


	3. Numbers 21 to 30

Battle

Despite agreeing with Grimmjow when the Arrancar had declared the real reason Ichigo came was to fight rather than rescue Orihime, in truth he'd come to fight two, perhaps three, specific people. Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, and perhaps Aizen. He wasn't interested in anyone else….unless Orihime was abruptly put in danger again. After he'd finally got home, he went up to his rooftop after he was healed and sat there, looking up at the sky. He was tired of fighting and sick of battle. Even against the hollow in his head, everything was a goddamn _battle_ and he was tired of it. _**Hey King…**_ Too tired even to startle, Ichigo merely turned his head a little to one side with a low sigh. _Yes, Shiro?_

_**If yer tired, I kin take over.**_

_ As __nice__ as that sounds, we'd be killed almost immediately._

_** Err….wha?**_

_ They've got someone or other monitoring reiatsu and reiatsu changes in the city. Do you really think Mayuri's division wouldn't notice our reiatsu switching from mine to yours? That fucker's been looking for an excuse to dissect us since he saw us masked in Hueco Mundo and me 'losing control over my inner Hollow' doesn't strike you as the __absolutely perfect__ reason to tie us up, strap us down, and cut us up alive for his amusement?_

_** I could hide in Hat-n-Clogs' basement. They can't track us down there.**_

_ And when you get bored and want to leave, then what do we do?_

_** Go to Hueco Mundo. I can open a portal t'there, y'know. I'll find ways to amuse myself. So whaddya say, King?**_

_ All this fighting must've made me crazy- sounds like a plan. As long as you hand control back to me when I ask for it, we have a deal._

_**I will, King. I promise.**_

Rising with another sigh, he got up, dusted off his pants, and headed over to Urahara's to give this deal a test run. Once there, he gave a short explanation to the goofy genius, got the hit to the forehead with his cane that shoved him out of his body, and once in the training area Urahara called his basement he promptly handed over control to Shirosaki and went to 'sleep' deep inside his own head. On the outside, Shiro experimented with their shared body. It was strange to have the time and permission to really _feel_ it, and having his King's express approval made it all that much sweeter. He tested his reflexes and abilities, marveling at the way his- well, their- body worked. Yeah, he had _permission_ to use this body now, so it wasn't just King's anymore, it was Shiro's too; it had always been Him and I, Me versus Him, two separate people that didn't get along, but now they were together and a whole. They had finally become a Them, just like they should have from the beginning and it was good. "How does it feel to stop fighting at last, Shirosaki?" Startled by Hat-N-Clogs' appearance, Shiro nearly tripped over himself trying to turn around too quickly. "Uh….pretty good, actually. Why d'ya ask?" The look the former scientist gave him was speculative, almost searching. "The luxury of being able to stop fighting is not one that Hollows, or Soul Reapers, are usually allowed to know. It is what makes humans so strong and the basis of spiritual life. Living inside Kurosaki-kun's head has given you time to review his memories, I'm sure, so you know he has battled, fought, lost and won since he was a child. But when his mother was with him, he could rest."

Here the blond man took off his hat. "After she was killed by Grand Fisher, Ichigo stopped having time to rest from the battle. He was constantly either in battle or preparing for the next one. This wears on the human soul in ways you cannot imagine. When the battle stops, as it has right now, it is incredibly healing. You have become the support Ichigo has missed since his mother died, someone he feels he can rely on to fight for him when he cannot or refuses to. Rejoice in this peace and joy, Shirosaki, because the gift he has given you is one he will not give to any other even when he has no choice unless it is forcibly taken from him." The hollow was quite for a moment, then made a split-second decision that would probably come back to bite him in the ass later but would be worth it. "I gotta go think. I'll be back in a lil' while, Urahara." Ripping open a gargantua, he hopped through. It took less than five minutes for Grimmjow to hunt him down and pounce on him (though he wasn't hard to find since he was standing still and flaring his reiatsu like a beacon) yelling a war cry. Shiro, now that he knew what _peace_ was, was reluctant to give it up and simply deflected the Arrancar with a skillful hand. At Grimmjow's furious exclamation, he blinked his gold-on-black eyes and crouched next to the half-buried panther.

"I ain't the King, an' th'King's the one ya want. He's sleepin', gettin' some healin' done in the Inner World. Now what _I_ came ta talk ta ya about is this special luxury humans get that we don't that makes 'em better than us. An' since it has to do with battle, I figure _ya_ of all people oughta know about it…"

The next time Ichigo met Grimmjow, he was confused at the distinct lack of hostility but, remembering the saying, didn't look a gift lion in the mouth and let Grimmjow curl up next to him on the bed and purr like a truck engine until they both fell asleep. It was nice, really, really nice, to set the battles aside for a time and just relax.

Anger (Set in the 'Romance' Universe and set after Romance)

In the six years Ichigo Kurosaki had been working in America, none of his coworkers or patients had reported ever seeing him display anger. It was guessed that it had something to do with why, when asked, he would flatly state that the years of his life between moving out of his house and getting his doctorate and moving here (a three-year stretch) did not exist and would not be mentioned. The main complaint about Dr. Kurosaki was that he had 'dead eyes' that scared many of the younger and older patients. The only life or fire seen there was only the reflection of his lighter flame when he lit a cigarette or the cherry of his cigarette showing in his eyes. When this was mentioned to him, he only smiled sadly and said there was nothing he could do about that. It had something to do with the years that didn't exist, or so the other doctors and nurses guessed. There was one other thing about him they happened to notice, though. If his patient happened to have blue hair, or any shade, either natural or dyed, he was sometimes seen with a momentarily softer expression, and every once in a while, if that patient with blue hair was also being difficult, a tiny spark of life lit his eye for a split second. And this led to more speculation, which led to the theory that if anyone would ever make Ichigo angry, it would be a blue-haired punk with a bad attitude. The result of this theory was that when one such blue-haired punk was brought in, after being shuffled through five other doctors who he refused to let treat his stab or gunshot wounds, they gave up and sent Ichigo in. It was always assumed that if Kurosaki got angry it would be not only scary as shit, but quite possibly dangerous (or even lethal). After Ichigo entered the room, there was a moment of silence followed quickly by yelling that bordered on screaming and a few ominous thumps. The shouting reached a maximum pitch, then the voice that was yelling broke and it got all quiet again. Ichigo emerged an hour later stripping off bloodstained gloves- with a _grin_ on his face and _life_ in his eyes such as they had never seen before.

The boy he left back in the room, a teenager who'd been into bad shit most of his life, was shaking where he sat, eyes wide and awed. Pulling himself up, but being careful of his new stitches, he leaned in the doorway to watch Dr. Kurosaki go and a sort of loopy smile twisted his lips. "Y'know," he said softly, "I think he mighta known my dad. He buggered off after he got m'mum pregnant, but that man right there knows him, I think. An' from what he said, if I'd found my Pa about six years ago like I'd been plannin' ta, I think…he mighta been my Dad too. I dunno why he's here, but he oughta be back in Japan keepin' my Pa in line. God knows Grimmjow needs _somebody_ t'do that." Flexing his hand to test his mobility, the boy bit his lip. "He needs ta smile more," he muttered, looking in the direction Ichigo had gone. Making up his mind, he strode off after the orange-haired man. He needed to get out of the gangs before they killed him, or so Dr. Kurosaki said, and he'd promised he'd try. He was an orphan anyway and he needed someone to help him out- if he did some real fast talking he might get a home, a life, and a way better Dad out of this. They _did_ let single doctors adopt teenage kids, right?

Meeting

"His name's Grimmjow Jaggerjack and he get severely offended if you get it wrong. He's a skilled fighter and will challenge you to prove his skill if you show even the slightest doubt. Highly rebellious, though extremely disciplined. Being aggressive or dominating is something he views as a threat and he _will_ attack if you do either." Despite listing all these things to his boss, he could tell the moron wasn't really listening to him. Sighing, Ichigo tucked the file back into his stack and watched the braided-pigtail wearing captain stride into the room to interview this new recruit with all her usual arrogance and penchant for barking orders. Then he settled in and waited for the fighting to begin. He hadn't gotten into this organization to do paperwork and run after fools, but this was the duty he was on until he made up for the incident with the training captain, an irritating man by the name of Byakuya Kuchiki, who had subtly prodded and mocked Ichigo and his lineage until he'd gotten fed up and demanded the captain fight him man to man if he doubted his ability so much. This subsequential mopping of the floor with the captain that followed the challenge had impressed his superiors, but made them wary of him. Called him a potential loose cannon and demanded that he prove his ability to follow orders and keep his temper before they'd ever let him on a battlefield. Thus, here he sat, gritting his teeth and growling as his current boss ignored any and every thing he told her, belittling his hard work and generally giving him full cause to fantasize about slipping his combat knife between her ribs or dragging it across her throat. He could do it easily, he knew he could- she, stupid bitch, discounted him as a threat and never paid him a speck of attention. She'd regret that someday when he decided this job wasn't worth it and snapped.

Better, he decided as he heard resounding thuds that meant someone was getting thrown around, he would just refuse to follow her anymore, or to offer her help. He'd ask to be assigned to Kenpatchi- lord knew that man needed someone to help with his paperwork and at least the man would listen to what he had to say, even if that was only because the man was after his ass and thus paid attention to any and everything Ichigo did, said, and wrote. It might be worth it. Even with the size of the man's hands and the frequent ass slaps. Just as he turned to go, the door opened. "Oi, Ichi! I just finished forcibly takin' Soi Fon's captaincy from 'er so I could get you as an assistant, don' go runnin' off just yet!" Half-turning, he narrowed his eyes at the blue-haired stranger. "Oh? Well make me a better offer than Kenpatchi, 'cuz if you can't that's who I'm going to." The new captain of squad two stepped up to him, raking his hair back with one hand, which did absolutely nothing to get it out of his face. "No random ass slapping, I promise not to harass you during work hours, no snatching you up for steamy make-out sessions unless you've already given me the okay, _and_ I swear on my black soul if you tell me 'no' I'll obey immediately." Ichigo eyed him for a moment, then turned around fully and offered his hand. "Welcome to the stealth and intelligence force…Captain." That was, quite frankly, a promise that he wouldn't have to put up with the shit he'd have to avoid if he worked under Kenpatchi, and if need be he could always kick his superior's ass…again.

"First order of business has to do with you. It'll be a pleasure workin' with ya, Lieutenant Kurosaki." Okay, maybe he wouldn't have to kick this one's ass after all.

Lost (Set in the Gargoyle universe and set after Gargoyle)

Climbing up the stone at dangerous speed, once he was just barely high enough he launched from the rock and glided, searching desperately for his clan or his mate. His clan had been looking for a place to properly celebrate the solstice with their mates for a night of dancing, eating, and loving when a storm had surprised them- the gargoyles had been scattered every which way by the terrible winds that carried them off, and the four human mates traveling with them had been carried off when their horses spooked from a bolt of lightning. Calling at the top of his voice, he was surprised but hopeful when he was hailed from a high castle perched on a cliff; perhaps some of his clan had found safe haven there. Landing, he saw gargoyles there, but none he recognized from his clan. Dropping into an all-fours crouch so he could run faster if he needed to, he begged to see the leader. A massive male that had been named Goliath came forth, and he explained about the storm that had torn apart the flight. Hopping up onto the battlements, he gestured in the direction he'd come from as he finished, "Some of us have taken human mates and they were with us, but those useless horses bolted and I can find neither hide nor hair of them! My own mate, Grimmjow, was captain of the guard so I do not doubt he can take care of himself, but if he gets injured again there is no Mage to heal him out there. Please, please help me find them!" The second-in-command, who he surmised was also the leader's mate, protested that humans were worthless and they should not help strange ones; Ichigo snarled at her and his wings snapped out. "I do not care if you think humans are unworthy or not, Grimmjow is _my_ mate and not yours, and he protected us from _your humans_ when the Scots staged a day raid- he refused to let them into our aerie to destroy us as we slept almost at the cost of his own life! You will not insult my mate in front of me, wretch! I do not _need_ your clan's help, and I will not accept it! If I ever see a Scottish Gargoyle again I will attack on sight!" He spat. "May your children know the pain I have known."

Such was the worst thing a gargoyle from one clan could wish upon another clan, as any warrior had endured horrors and tragedies that they wouldn't wish upon their worst enemies. To hope that _children_ would know such suffering was cruel indeed. As he launched himself from the battlement, roaring at the top of his considerably loud voice for his clan and his mate, Goliath closed his eyes as his mentor came up to them both. "It is quite a curse he's put upon our eggs," the old one murmured sadly. "Ya shouldnna provoked 'im, lass. He an' his mate have had seven children, four eggs an' three babes; ya canna achieve such a thing without great love. Your and Goliath's love has lasted less than a Rookery Hatching, but theirs has lasted much longer and will continue in that manner for centuries to come. They are immortal, aye, but their children are not, and he has suffered more than even this old dog ever could. I think we'd best try and mend this rift before it gets any bigger, lad, lest he curse our children's children to suffer tragedy as well." Goliath nodded, not looking his angel of the night in the eye as he ordered search parties to look for both the Irish gargoyles and the four missing humans on horseback. Then he himself took off after the orange-haired stranger. Following the roars, he was soon flying above the powerful immortal, and called down an apology for his mate's harsh words. She had been mistreated and insulted by humans in the past and held poor opinion of them.

Ichigo did not answer, but angled his wing so the larger gargoyle could ride his updraft more easily. Catching a bright flash of sky blue, Ichigo immediately dived and wrapped himself around his mate, crying and laughing and refusing to let go as he kissed the man over and over passionately, raining his lips over the humans' face. Goliath circled overhead politely to give them time together and kept his eyes on the horizon not only to look for the missing gargoyles, but so as not to tempt himself to watch. He had always struggled to understand male mated pairs, and he'd never known a gargoyle that mated with a human, so it was hard not to stare and try to see what they saw in each other. He supposed it was enough to know that they had been separated, lost to one another, and now they were found. Should that have happened to him and his own love, he would probably have been doing the exact same thing Ichigo was doing now… ravishing his mate senseless and demanding he _never_ get lost like that again or he'd skin him alive.

Noise

Laying in bed and unable to sleep (as per usual since his hollow started whispering to him- even though he'd officially won the title of "King" for good, he just couldn't stand to fall asleep anymore unless entirely exhausted) was when Ichigo heard something he never had before, though he had a feeling he probably should recognize it. Curious about these strange sounds, he listened closely and decided after careful deliberation that they were coming from up on the roof. Opening his window, the sounds then got much clearer and the teenager blushed cherry red to the roots of his hair when he realized he _did_ know those noises- the slight slap of skin on skin, heaving pants and moans, and a rhythmic grunting that matched the slick sound of flesh moving against flesh. It was the sound of someone jacking off, and most likely with a slicked hand for better friction judging by the tiny sucking sounds he could just barely catch. A particularly mangled groan caught his attention, and it sounded like a strangled name. That wasn't what so interested him, though- he _knew_ that voice, just like he knew that noise; Grimmjow Jaggerjack was masturbating on his roof! Could his life get ANY weirder? Supporting his head in one hand, which was covering his face, he let out a little irritated groan of his own and the noises stopped.

Massaging his temples with two fingers, Ichigo scrunched up his nose and eyes to try and lessen his headache. "Fuck my life, this shit never seems to get any better. I need to get hammered, high, and laid before I lose my goddamned mind." After a moment's thought, he grimaced. "Maybe I'd just settle for some sleep; hangovers are hell, drugs completely corrupt your body, and screwing random strangers gets you diseases that can kill you. Yeah, sleep sounds good…if I could _just fucking get some_. But no, the fucking nightmares keep me up for days at a time, and when I do get to catch a couple of hours a hollow or a random Arrancar or Grimmjow shows up and I have to get up and go fight and then I can never get back to sleep. Fuck. My. Life." Dropping back inside his room but not bothering to close the window, Ichigo closed his eyes, flung out his arms to drape them across the bed, and sighed. There was a rustle of cloth, the creak of wood, and then suddenly there was a warm body covering his lower half and something was rubbing sensually against his crotch. He hissed a little, about to open his eyes to see what the hell was happening, but he was shushed by a soft voice and with another rustle of fabric something was tied gently over his eyes. Becoming alarmed at this, he reached up to take it off when large, warm hands caught his and brought them down to press them against a hard, male chest. "What- _who-_" he was shushed again, softness that he had to presume were lips skimming over his cheek and down to his own mouth to prevent him from saying anything else.

The warmth, which blanketed him completely when the hard body covered him and pulled the blankets up around them, lulled him into a light dozing state. After he fell into a coma-like sleep, the male on top of him purred and started rubbing their crotches again, attending to his still-rock-hard arousal now that the younger wasn't awake to shy away from it. Grimmjow nuzzled the teenagers' throat, licking at it to savor the incredible taste of the tanned skin and immersing himself in the scent and feel of _Ichigo_. He rutted against the firming erection under him, and completion for them both came quickly. Oh, it was so much better then jacking off on the roof. Sure, he was bathed in Ichigo's reiatsu there, but this let him smell the shinigami's arousal and taste his sweet human flesh, touch his warm body and drown in his presence. He wondered briefly if he had the balls to stay the night and still be here, wrapped around the orange-haired boy like this, when they woke, but quickly decided waking up to a getsuga tensho would be spectacularly unpleasant and untied his obi from over his bedmates' eyes. He would've left it just in case doing so would make Ichigo attach fond memories to it, but unfortunately his hakama already hung low on his hips and they'd fall off completely if he didn't use the obi to keep them on. He didn't notice, as he left through the window, one slightly dazed brown eye opened just enough to see who had given him such comfort and caught a flash of Grimmjow's bright blue hair. Ichigo fell back asleep with a little smile, thinking it might be nice to do that again.

Wild (Best Friends universe, before Best Friends)

Grimmjow had never known, until he was thoroughly scolded and trounced by another, older panther, that there was any difference between him and Ichigo. Yeah, his fur was darker and he was just a little bit smaller, but he was growing! They both had sharp teeth with strong jaws and they both had claws and two ears and two eyes and four legs and a tail and whiskers; color didn't matter, so what made them different? They pounced and hit and played the same, so he didn't understand why the strange older male had sniffed him and then started punishing him- what the hell had he done wrong? The sharp scolds between bites and swats seemed to center around his association with "the foul lion cub", who he at some point figured out must be Ichigo. Ichigo was the only cub he played with, so he must be the "lion", whatever that was. When he limped back to the den his mother and Ichigo's shared (reluctantly) Ichigo's incredible concern for him and immediate attention to his wounds made it impossible for him to be angry at him. When he heard what had happened, Ichigo looked just as confused as Grimmjow had been, but he also looked guilty. When the other cub asked why, he said he felt bad that some strange adult male had attacked Grimmjow because of him. Sitting, he looked at himself, then at his littermate, and asked what made them different if they were both cubs. It took their mothers much time to explain that Ichigo was a lion and Grimmjow was a panther and thus they would be much more different from each other when they were grown. It was difficult to get the concept across because they were of the opinion that as long as the both had paws and claws and teeth and tails, they would never be so different it should matter.

The next day, however, the three others learned exactly how aggressive little Ichi could get when someone in his pride had been harmed by an outsider. He trotted into the den looking incredibly proud of himself despite the claw and bite marks that littered his body that would later be impressive scars in adulthood, including the near-loss of his left eye and complete shredding of half of that ear. Laying down to lick his wounds, which Grimmjow quickly started helping him with, he announced that he'd gone and hunted down that mean male that had hurt his best friend and had trounced him back so bad that stupid adult wouldn't be able to run or hunt for a week. Cleaning the eye wound, which would heal (thank the Sun) but forever bear a nasty scar, that was when Grimmjow silently vowed he would trounce anyone who ever tried to whup him again (with the exception of his mother) so Ichigo would never need to feel he had to avenge or defend him again. He would be strong and he would be fast and he would be wild, just like Ichigo was. He wouldn't let himself be anything less, for the sake of his littermate and his pride.

Animals

Ichigo never knew what possessed him when he did shit like this. His house, though large, was not occupied by numerous humans, but rather by numerous creatures. Two dogs, a horse, three snakes, a monkey, a centaur, a phoenix, a unicorn, and several shape shifters. He had just added a were-panther to the list. Honestly, what was _wrong_ with him? Most of the fantastic and mythical creatures that lived with him had been around so long he couldn't remember a time without them, and this one kept threatening to rip his throat out so he had to keep him in a tight magical binding that suspended him by the scruff of his neck. "Oi Nel, mind helping me out over here, ya fuckin' Clydesdale? I need someone tall, strong, and able to handle a snarlin' were-panther that's lookin' ta kill me. How's everything on the home front been since I left? Shiro bust anything else up?" Nel danced over, cheerful as always, and snatched up the panther to hold him like a child would a house cat, dutifully ignoring his howled threats and snarled promises. "No, he behaved today, and Byakuya has been keeping everyone else in line with Zangetsu's help. Welcome home, Itsygo!" Running a hand through his very orange hair, what had drawn most of these creatures to him because it made them assume he was a creature as well, he sighed and leaned against the flank of the albino horse that had trotted up beside him. "Yeah Shiro, I know, I promised to ride you when I got back. I hadn't expected to have to drag a struggling, dangerous were-panther home in magical bindings." The horse stomped with a hard snort, lowering his head almost to the floor to nudge Ichigo's jean-clad legs. Grabbing onto the white mane with a yelp to stay upright, Ichigo glared. "Fine, fine, I get the picture! Great Shiva, alright already! I'm indulging you, now stop being so impatient!"

Watching the bastard who'd tried to collar and tame him argue with a horse had quieted the transformed panther for a moment, but witnessing the horse actually _demand_ vehemently to be ridden had actually stunned him speechless. The centaur holding him giggled at his gobsmacked expression, then started carrying him off somewhere. She explained as she went, "Itsygo is his legal owner in the city, so if Shiro-kun wants to go out for a run he has to have Itsygo riding him so they don't catch him and try to sell him to the horse traders again. The last time they tried that, Itsygo beat them up so much and so bad nearly all of them were in the hospital. Ever since, Shiro makes him ride whenever he wants to run." Carrying him into a strange, airy room done in blue, she set him down but stayed blocking the door. "Now behave mister big kitty, or I'll send one of the shape shifters in to settle you down. Itsygo will be back in a while and he and Zangetsu will make you their offer then." Climbing to his paws, he let his voice rumble in curiosity. "The same offer they make all of us," she answered in that impossibly high happy voice, "that we can stay here as long as we want but just one or two conditions. It's different for everyone- mine are not to kill anybody on purpose when they offend me and to stop tearing predator animals apart with my spear. Oh, and not go outside the property in the daytime without a glamour anymore, that was added recently when I did it four times in one week. The "red tape" Itsygo had to get through to keep me and the others safe took four months to go away, so he had to give me a new rule. He did that to a couple others too, especially when they got so mad and fought so much they almost destroyed the house."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Come to think of it, Renji and Kenny are still on probation for that incident." Still looking like she was mulling something over, she left, for some reason leaving the door open. He was tempted to make a run for it, but he knew he couldn't outrun a horse like Shiro and he would make that magic-user human angry if he had to hunt him down, so instead he climbed up on the soft nest that was set on a metal frame off the ground and curled up to rest. He'd had a long day, after all. He was lightly dozing when the human returned, peeking in cautiously around the doorframe. He approached the bed and lay down next to the panther happily, then started petting him, all without saying a word. There was a strange look in his eye, almost like the look the panther had seen in the eyes of panther females at mating time or males that had smelled a females' heat. His stroking hands had just started to venture lower, towards his tail, when there came a sharp "Goddamn it Kon!" from the doorway. As 'Kon' scrambled off the bed, holding his hands up defensively, the _real_ orange-maned human was striding into the room, his (apparently customary) scowl in place. "Sorry, sorry," the imposter said, and the were-panther knew immediately why he had not spoken previously- he might look like Ichigo, but he sounded _nothing_ like him. "I just wanted to meet the newcomer." Ichigo's scowl deepened. "You just wanted to jump his bones before he could protest, more like. You do this every time! Out, you pervert, before I let Zabimaru have his way with you to make up for when you posed as Renji and had your way with _him_."

Kon 'eep'ed and dashed from the room, leaving behind an exhausted-looking Ichigo who walked over to the chair next to the bed and sat in it. "Look," the magic user sighed, "I'm no prison warden- I'm not gonna make you stay if you don't want to. If you do, you'd have three rules to follow- don't go killing the prey creatures in my house, don't hunt outside in the daytime unless it's absolutely necessary, and learn to control your shifts so you stop shifting in front of the humans, some of whom would want to strap you to a steel table and dissect you alive to find out how you're made. Stay or go, it's your choice…scooting over to make room for me, however, is not. That's _my_ bed and I want on it. I'm tired, damn it." Chuffing his amusement, the massive blue-furred panther shifted and squirmed a little to make a human-sized open space in the bed, which Ichigo promptly climbed into. Plastering his body against the big cat's, presumably for warmth, he muttered a thick "goodnight" and buried his face in the abundant chest fur, falling asleep almost instantly. Looking down at the human, the panther's eyes softened and he licked the bangs back from the younger's forehead. Maybe staying here wouldn't be so bad after all, Grimmjow thought fuzzily as he allowed himself to succumb to the lure of sleep as well.

Run (Pet universe, set after Pet)

Running wasn't really one of his favorite things to do, but Grimmjow had found himself doing it more and more often ever since he'd bought his lizard hybrid. Running away, particularly from him, seemed to be about all the orange-haired male did, when he wasn't snatching a bite to eat (which he did on the run) or catching some sleep (usually high in a tree where Grimmjow couldn't get at him- the much lighter Ichigo could go high onto branches that would snap under the larger human's weight). He couldn't figure out why Ichigo didn't want to get to close to him. It was one night he discovered what might be the reason Ichigo was so fond of running. He had been sitting out on the patio, beer in hand as he stared up at the moon, when a fearful whimper caught his ear. It seemed to come from up in the tree Ichigo was resting in tonight, and his eyes snapped up to the long orange mane he could see through the leaves. The dangling tail twitched, then snapped with agitation, and a louder whimper was heard, followed by a frightened whine. One of the arched feet (with a poison spur where the human heel would be, as Grimmjow had quickly found out) twitched, like a dog that dreamed of running in its' sleep. Wordless cries of panic and fear, mixed in with the occasional guttural "No!" came from the sleeping hybrid, and Grimmjow recalled the shopkeeper pulling him aside to explain that Ichigo had been one of the rare few that had been forced to live wild to survive his young formative years and hadn't been taken in by Urahara until he was nearly fifteen. Though he understood German, Italian, Japanese, English, and Common, he hadn't been able to speak, and his beautiful green-white-and-red scales were marred by more scars than even soldiers bore. He shied way from touch and got violent when boxed in, eyes reverting to the gold-on-black that meant he had become wild again if scared and particularly if he was grabbed roughly, and he had always been afflicted by horrific night terrors.

Unable to even imagine the kind of horrors his pet had most likely been forced to live through, Grimmjow got up and went to the base of the tree. "Ichigo. Ichigo, wake up!" A shattered cry that sounded very much like a sob hit him like a right hook to the gut, and he started climbing up the tree. When he got as close as he could to Ichigo's branch, he caught the thrashing tail and called again. "Ichigo, it's me, Grimmjow! It's only a nightmare, _wake up_!" With a much louder cry of terror, the lizard bolted upright, eyes flashing open to display gold-on-black as he turned to Grimmjow. Unsure how to calm him in such a state, the human tilted his chin up and held out his arms in a submissive display meant to assure the animalistic side of Ichigo that he was not aggressive nor an enemy, and gestured towards the ground. Ichigo growled, but Grimmjow just started climbing down, feeling the eyes on him watching his every move as he dropped down. Unfortunately, he was too distracted by Ichigo's state (which could result in someone's death if he was provoked while like this) to pay much attention to his landing; the leg he'd broken as a child took his weight at a bad angle, sending him down with a low grunt of pain. Laying on the ground and trying to regain his feet, he cursed when he failed and collapsed again, pounding the ground with his fist in frustration. A hiss from above quickly drew his attention back to his pet, who had descended to the branch right above the ground. The hiss seemed to be more of an inquiry than anything, and Grimmjow replied, "I hurt my leg on th'way down. I can't get up." Ichigo's brows drew together as he frowned.

After a moment's hesitation, the still-wild Ichi dropped down to the ground, his talon-like feet digging into the soft grass, and he approached Grimmjow warily, obviously ready to retreat at any second. Grimmjow forced himself to remain unthreatening, and after a moment Ichigo picked him up entirely, his strength apparently much more than his slight size implied. He carried Grimmjow into the house, setting him on the couch and crouching in front of him to get a good look at his bad leg. A careful inspection revealed that it was simply the old injury acting up, and after a few moments of licking to soothe the irritated flesh Ichigo clambered up to sit on the couch as well, leaning his upper body against Grimmjow's. He nosed at the human's neck, briefly pressed his lips to it, and then settled almost fully against his companion in a show of trust Grimmjow had been beginning to think he'd never earn. The cerulean blue eyes softened immensely, and he relaxed into the lizard's embrace in an equal show of trust that had him almost purring against his human. Burying his own nose in the orange hair, Grimmjow hugged Ichigo close to him and hoped that starting today or maybe tomorrow when they woke up, Ichigo would maybe feel safe enough that he would stop running all the time. Now that he had an idea why Ichigo did it, he really, really _hated_ the hybrid's tendency to run and run and run all the time.

Protect

Nobody seemed to get that Ichigo wasn't allowed to accept help unless that help was in the form of training of one kind or another. He was the Number One Guardian, protecting was written into the makeup of his soul somewhere, and he couldn't- _wouldn't_- change that for the world. Being the protector of others meant you weren't allowed to be weak and you only required help if you were weak; whether it be temporary or not, it was weakness and that was not to be borne. Training to become stronger was allowed, but only because it didn't show weakness, only a desire to be stronger so if greater threats than you had previously faced came along, you'd be ready. He wasn't allowed to cry, or lean on other people emotionally, and he sure as hell wasn't allowed to be protected by somebody else. Why couldn't they just understand that? Why couldn't they accept that was just the way things were? Going hand-to-hand with Grimmjow after their swords had somehow tangled so hard they couldn't disengage them from each other, he threw the man through a wall by his foot in a move he'd practiced countless times with his crazy-ass father, and when he realized it he just had to facepalm and laugh. "Oh my god, the crazy bastard's trained me too well! And I was trying _so_ hard for his 'Good Morning Surprise Attack Of Love And Bitter Tears' _not_ to affect my fighting style, but there I go, using the counterattack without thinking. I can't believe he's gotten to me this much!" Grimmjow, who had climbed from the rubble right around the beginning of the second sentence, had both eyebrows raised so high they nearly touched his hairline. "What the _fuck_, shinigami?" Ichigo laughed again. "My, uh, Sire, he's a crazy fucker. Attacks me every morning, evening, and randomly during the day, and he likes to surprise me in the shower with a roundhouse kick to the ribs at least once a week. Crazy fuck."

Grimmjow's eyebrows actually _did_ disappear into his hairline at this point. "Your _Sire_ does that? Jesus, Kurosaki…you do know that madness runs in families, right?" Ichigo nodded, face still hidden behind his hand. "That's why I'm terrified to sire any offspring, just in case I turn out as batshit insane as my Sire. That's sorta why I'm so damn suicidal in battle. If being a protector wasn't written into my very being…" Now Grimmjow tilted his head to one side, his expression curious. "It is? Shinigami and humans have it too?" Ichigo blinked. "Have what too?" The Espada came close, laying his large hand over Ichigo's heart. "A Directive. One single word or idea that's written so deep into a being that it's all they know and to resist it is futile. All Hollow have one. Until they get to about Adjucas the Directive is 'Eat', but once they get to Adjucas they get a more specific one. Mine was 'Evolve', but after Aizen made me an Arrancar it changed and I'm not sure what it is now. But the way yer talkin', it sounds like yer Directive is 'Protect'." Ichigo considered for a moment, then smiled grimly. "Yeah, that sounds about right." Grimmjow seemed less inclined to fight now, wrapping an arm around the teen's shoulders with a sigh. "Y'know," he said conversationally, "I think I jus' completed my Directive- I'm pretty sure it was Find Mate With 'Protect' Directive. An' now that means I gotta new one- dunno exactly what, yet, but it prolly has somethin' ta do with you 'cuz I'm pretty sure yer my Mate." Ichigo stared at him for a moment, then groaned loudly. "If I am, you better take damn good care o' me, Jagerjaques, or I'll be kicking your ass to kingdom come." Grimmjow touched their foreheads together and grinned. "Oh, I will, Protector."

Serve (Rider Universe, set before Rider)

Fighting his brothers Zaraki and Shiro in their daily sparring matches, Grimmjow crowed his victory when he disarmed them both, sitting down to catch his breath and drink some of the ambrosia that had been set out for them with a shit-eating grin. (He'd never really understood that human phrase; from how it smelled, shit had to be nasty, and he couldn't figure why in _hell's name_ anyone who had been made to _eat_ shit would be smiling in the first place.) His long cat's tail flicking behind him, he declared to his brothers, "I am King of this sparring match!" Shiro scowled at him (completely unaware that he resembled his human twin, Ichigo Kurosaki, who looked exactly like him in all but color at that particular moment) and snarled, "Nobody'll evah be King o' me- well, 'cept maybe Pops- an' if there evah is it sure's hell won' be _you_!" Irritated at this refusal to acknowledge his victory, Grimmjow pounced on him again and they got into more fisticuffs, Zaraki snorting at their foolish behavior as he uncorked a bottle of their Uncle Shunsui's famous red wine and started to gulp at it. Though lords of very different animals, they all were similar in that they were, well, Lords of animals. Zaraki owned the Wolves, Grimmjow commanded the Big Cats, and Shiro ruled the Reptiles; though among the scaled creatures he seemed to prefer the lizards best, in battle he relied heavily on the venom of the snakes. All three were sons of Zangetsu, god of the sea and lord of horses.

Zangetsu, however, was one of the more unorthodox Gods- as his sons had been waited on hand and foot since their birth, he believed they were rather spoiled. Though his wife, an Egyptian goddess named Pantera, was of the opinion that they were no more spoiled than a human noble would be, she did agree that they could become stupid and corrupt if they _became_ too dependant on servants and too detached from the Human Realm. Thus, it was decreed that Shiro, Grimmjow, and Zaraki were to be made to serve their time among humans as servants of one kind or another. As always, the boys made it into a competition, this time of who would be able to serve their employer or master the best. To make things fair, they would have to choose a venue where none of them had the advantage- when their mother suggested they be working horses, which was their father's domain and thus neutral ground, they agreed. Zaraki, who was the horse equivalent of a Clydesdale, suggested they do manual labor such as pulling carts or plows- however, this would be unfair because of Shiro and Grimmjow being slighter in size than him. Racing was suggested, but horses of Zaraki's size were not allowed to race for safety reasons and this was dismissed as well. Hesitantly, Grimmjow asked his father about something he had heard talked about briefly when one of his unknowing worshippers had called upon his help, something called a 'rode-ee-oh' and when it was explained, all agreed it was an appropriate arena for their competition, as each could play to their strengths.

In their first years as rodeo horses, they learned quickly their new masters didn't care about anything but results. They were taken care of by stable hands and it was somewhat more irritating than it had ever been because they really _couldn't_ do it themselves, which really pissed them off. Grimmjow became known was the most violent horse in the rodeo, a vicious biter and a kicker strong enough to bust apart most of his stalls and throw riders with ease- though most were reluctant to ride a second time after suffering from several nasty bites after they were bucked. Shiro was the fastest, using his speed to his advantage to toss riders left and right and literally chase them out of the arena. Zaraki, big and strong as he was, used his weight to dislodge the tiny riders and when he bucked, it was with enough force to give most of the humans whiplash they would have to be medically treated for later. The three ruled the rodeo from the horse side- until _he_ came. An orange haired rider the exact copy of Shiro's human form, but with more color, fast on his feet and stronger than any human they'd met up to that point. He rode often and hard, almost like he was trying to escape or forget something, and when he had the incredible nerve to put himself in Shiro's saddle, the albino obliged his obvious desire for a challenge.

It was the first time Shiro had lost so badly he had to acknowledge that another had won Kingship.

Zaraki had been the next to fall beneath the stranger's boot heel, the strength he was so proud of crumbling at the young man's determination and sheer willpower. His persistence to not let Zaraki dominate him had completely eclipsed the horses' competitive spirit. It took him much longer to approach Grimmjow, but when he did Grimmjow broke under the cowboy just as his brothers had, except perhaps it was a little quicker. Something in that boy made them, Gods though they were, _want_ to submit to him; it made them want to serve him. They wouldn't understand until much later that it was their otherworldly senses warning them; all three could unconsciously tell that Ichigo Kurosaki wore make up to cover black and purple bruises that he was not happy to bear, and it subconsciously prodded them to offer their submission to soothe him. Their conscious minds fought this urge violently, making them even wilder and more untamable under the young rider, but it eventually got to be so strong that they weren't doing it for themselves anymore; Ichigo liked a challenge, and liked a fight, so the only reason they tried so hard when he rode was to please him. This, too, they would remain ignorant of until several months after regaining their natural human-shaped forms.


	4. numbers 31 to 40

Butler

All of his life, Grimmjow had been forced to serve others. He'd been trained to be a servant while still a child, just like his brothers and sister, forced into lessons from the time he could walk. He tried rebelling a few times in his youth, but the harsh punishments and threats of even worse ones (which he _knew_ his father would carry out) forced him to subdue his wild, ornery nature to survive whole and unharmed. Now though, he'd finally gotten a job _outside his father's influence_. He was serving a "new" family- that is, one that had the wealth, and the old blood, but had reintroduced themselves from out of nowhere and appeared to want absolutely nothing to do with society. Thus, presumably, they would be outside his father's influence and he could finally get out from under that monster's thumb. Leaning on his cane (which was too damn fancy for his tastes, with a sterling silver dragon head for the handle that he thought was ridiculous- a handle should be a _handle_, damn it) to keep pressure off his injured leg, he rapped on the door with his gloved knuckles and stood ramrod straight. The training was just too deep to do anything else, particularly for the first impression. When an orange-haired man about his age answered the door, blinking blearily to clear his pretty brown eyes, Grimmjow really couldn't suppress the little grin that leapt to his lips. It was hard enough to keep back the ear-to-ear smirk he was holding in check. The other examined him briefly, then yawned (without even bothering to cover his mouth) and gestured him inside. "C'mon in, honey, we're still gettin' settled an' all, so Dad's prolly on th'floor somewhere, the twins are sharing the only bed we got set up upstairs, and I'm exhausted from waiting up for you so…" he yawned again, "come in, make yourself as comfortable as you can, and if you don't wanna wait for us to wake up then take a nap yourself."

Though surprised, he bit his tongue to keep the smart comments to himself (he desperately wanted to ask if they were a nocturnal family like he'd heard lived in faraway countries, and if they were he swore he'd kiss the one who told him so because there could be no better excuse to become estranged to his father) and simply followed him in. The young man pointed to a box and mumbled that it contained blankets, then crawled into a nest of blankets on the floor that he'd apparently stumbled from to let Grimmjow in. A thickly muttered "G'night" was muggy and fogged enough to convince him the young master really was going to sleep, so he did as directed, grabbing a blanket, and got comfortable by nudging the orange-head aside just enough to use the blanket nest as his pillow. Sad to say, this made a better bed than he was normally allowed when he lived in his father's home. He asleep surprisingly easy, considering he was in a strange house and had gotten a full three hours of sleep the night previously, and had strange dreams involving creatures with white masks and holes through their bodies. He awoke after sunset, and discovered that he and his companion had, at some point in the day, managed to wrap themselves around each other inside the little next of blankets, though he honestly couldn't figure out how. Well aware of his own preference and the social stigma that came with being fonder of your own gender than you should be, he decided it would probably be best if he extracted himself from the young master's hold before his body had a very telling and embarrassing reaction to their close proximity. This plan met with failure, however, as when he tried to extract himself the other pulled him closer with a low purr. "Come on baby, I'm not so repulsive, am I? Can't you stay in my embrace just for a little longer?" The slim young man pressed a soft kiss to Grimmjow's collarbone, and he had to fight not to moan aloud. He had no idea if this was standard custom for the family and the place they'd come from, so there was no telling if it was genuine interest.

"Ichigo, stop harassing the help. You did that back in Romania too, and nobody would work for us after that, so quit while you're ahead. You know how these stuffy kinds are- homosexuality is a stigma, not just a different kind of love." Ichigo made a face but let go, rolling to his feet in a fluid move Grimmjow couldn't help admiring. "Leave our motherland out of this, Karin. Besides, I can't help my preferences, and when I wake up to a beautiful, strong man in my bed and brimming with vitality and life, you cannot fault me for wanting to cuddle a bit before rising." Getting up himself, and surmising from the conversation that his bedmate had a blatantly obvious preference for male company much like himself, he wrapped an arm around Ichigo to rest a hand on his hip and grinned at his sister. "Not only can I not fault him, I feel I must inform the young miss that it doesn't count as harassment if the help enjoys the attention." Both stared at him a moment, then suddenly Ichigo pulled their bodies flush together and held him tightly. "Alright, you can forget serving my father; I'm appointing you my personal manservant. We'll hire someone else for him." Karin laughed. "Oh now you've done it. He'll never let you go if he can help it." Grimmjow hugged the younger man tighter and grinned outright, dropping a kiss on the bridge of his nose. "Well I'm not plannin' on lettin' go anytime soon either, so that don't sound like a problem." They would find out later that Isshin had hired Grimmjow as the butler specifically for his discreet preference of men and had planned this all along.

Much later, when both wore golden bands on their left ring finger, they would also discover that he had planned further yet in the hope of their future together. They married in the way of the Roma and none of the attendees from the caravan offered anything other than sincere congratulations.

It was a very nice change from English society- so much so,

they moved back to Romania two years later.

Cops and Robbers (WARNING, DARK THEMES AHEAD!)

Officer Ichigo Kurosaki holstered his gun, a hard set to his mouth as he looked at the mere boy that lay on the concrete, blood rapidly pooling under his corpse. The man was like a skeleton, all height but stick-thin, with all his bones sticking out grotesquely beneath his skin. He was obviously malnourished and in no condition to fight, but the fucker'd been armed, why had he been armed? Ichigo could've taken him down with minimum struggle and effort, if only the stupid teenager hadn't pulled piece on him. His face hard and his eyes cold, he crouched just long enough to shut the kid's remaining eye and rose to his feet. He'd kill Aizen for this, and all the other kids he was doing this to. The crime lord had begun manufacturing a new drug, and it was one of the worst ones he'd ever seen in his life. Some horror flick on TV had displayed something like it- CVX, it was called in that movie. It pumped people so full of adrenaline they had near-superhuman abilities and reflexes. It also made them absolutely and uncontrollably insane. He'd seen what a human on this shit could do- they hadn't named it yet, but on the street it was typically known as "new kryptonite"- and they performed horrors that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. They bit out each other's throats over one or two rocks of this shit, literally mauled each other to death like animals, but more vicious and terrifyingly strong than any animal had ever been. They were too fast to follow, most times, and slit your throat before you knew what had happened. He'd lost his entire team to one of them when they'd missed the rapid pulsation of her eyes- a regular junkie whore, but one who'd just recently eaten a rock of the shit. Witnessing the pulsation itself was macabre and disturbing, the entire pupil and iris folding in on itself four times in less than a split second with red-veined white all that could be seen when iris and pupil disappeared.

Seeing a familiar head of blue hair, he was raising his hand to greet his favorite street criminal when it happened. Those beautiful cerulean eyes _flicked_ and _pulsated_. Normally fastest on the draw, Ichigo couldn't bring himself to kill Grimmjow and instead let his hand drop. "Shit. I thought you were above that, Grimm." The older man giggled, the momentary calm still in effect before he would attack. "Bossman had too much too much," he sing-songed, "made us alllll take it. Heheheee, butstill too much too much and he's puuuuut it in the water too! We're all fucked, Ichi," his voice took on the eerily quiet tone that told him the calm time was over, "and I'll do you the favor of not making you watch." Ichigo's last thought as his spine was severed at the neck was that Aizen had no idea what kind of monstrosity he'd unleashed, and it was likely going to be what killed him. Watching the man he'd loved for years drop, neck broken, Grimmjow mourned him from where he was trapped deep in his own head. Then he sent a single thought to the part of his brain that was in control- _We loved him and we killed him and Aizen made us do it; Aizen must die._ Aizen wouldn't know he was in danger until he was dead. This instinctual and violent part of him would drink when he got thirsty and he'd probably never break free of the drug in the water, so he'd have to settle for revenge.

Fight (Romance Universe, set after Anger)

Jackal had never been afraid of the man who'd adopted him except that first time in the examining room and that had quickly gone away (yeah, Jackal, real imaginative. His worthless whore mother had been too unimaginative to come up with something actually _good_ so she'd just come up with a rip-off of his father's last name; he was gonna change it to Adolf when he was eighteen just to spite her, he swore). He had, however, been instinctively aware that he had reason to fear this man he'd grown to love with all his heart, even if he'd never really known _why_ until the day he saw Ichigo Kurosaki fight. The gang he'd gotten out of had surrounded them, carrying weapons, and he'd been prepared to talk fast and make promises and lie his ass off to get them both out safe when Ichigo started to move. Ten seconds flat and every single man lay on the concrete, groaning in pain or unconscious. Most of them had at least one broken limb. He moved like a warrior of old, not one single movement wasted, power in every breath, and too fast for the eye to follow. Stunned, he watched Ichigo call the police to come pick them up and start walking home again like nothing had happened. It boggled Jackal's mind- Ichigo had a gift for violence, for fighting. Everyone he'd ever known from the street that was like that hit anything and anyone at anytime, but Ichigo didn't- and Jackal could think of a number of times he really deserved a good whupping. The time he'd gotten high and offered to be his biological father for Ichigo, for instance. He still didn't know what the hell had possessed him to do that, even as doped up as he'd been. He'd forced himself to get _off_ the meth after that incident. He would've deserved a beating then, so why hadn't he got one?

When he mentioned this to Ichigo, the 30-year-old sighed and ruffled his hair. "When I was your age," he said softly, and Jackal leaned forward so as not to miss a word because his father never said shit about his childhood or teen years, "I got into some bad shit. My old man was a crazy fuck and I couldn't stand to be home a lot after my mom died. A gang called the Soul Reapers suckered me in, telling me one of the Hollows, another gang, had been the ones to kill her. I was a berserker, the kind of fighter they needed, and I rose quickly through the ranks. They only ever gave me two kinds of missions- battles and assassinations. The battles were all kinds; turf wars, one-on-ones, arena fights, underground matches. The assassinations were always somebody high-ranking on the other side, like a section captain or a Menos. I even took out a couple of Vasto Lorde. Eventually, I sniped Grand Fisher from a rooftop, the bastard who'd killed and…desecrated my mother. My last mission was to kill Aizen, leader of a new gang called the Arrancar and a traitor to the Soul Reapers. They retired me after that, and forever after I've been trying to make up for the lives I've taken. Soul Reapers are…the cops of Karakura's gangs. I may only have killed criminals, but- it ruined me, I guess. I refuse to raise my hand to anyone who isn't trying to kill me. And I refuse to raise my hand to _you_ at all." Some stunned silence and a comforting hug later, Jackal sat with Ichigo on the couch, snuggled into the orange-head's side, and thought to himself as he nuzzled one steel-muscled pectoral that he was more thankful than ever he'd decided not to fight with him if he could help it. He also thanked the gods that Ichigo had been the one to adopt him and that Grimmjow didn't know Jackal existed and hadn't tried to lay claim to him.

Slave

"Tenth time around the slave market…you _are_ a challenge, aren't you, Kurosaki?" The twenty-year-old grinned, licked the blood on his teeth, and spat at the slaver trader's feet. "Aye, en yeh kin ask Kenpatchi 'oo cracked 'is skull open t'proive it. Ah'll nae be broken by th'likes o' yeh, lad." Still smiling pleasantly, Aizen caught Ichigo in the jaw with his foot and slammed the man backwards to hit the stone floor with a sick-sounding _CRACK_. Turning to his customer, he said apologetically, "You did ask to see the worst I have, Mr. Jagerjaques. This is he." The blue-haired male crouched and grabbed Kurosaki by the shirt, pulling him back into a kneeling position to scent his neck and shoulder, as was customary for a vampire looking for a slave to feed from. "Mmmm," the bloodsucker moaned softly, "just my type. Defiant. Spitfire. Dominant. A fighter, just like I like 'em." He licked the sweet flesh he couldn't wait to get a proper taste of, then rose and scooped him up in both arms before giving Aizen a sharp look. "I require him immediately- I haven't fed in days and because my normal bleeder pair was attacked and lost too much blood last week; I am very close to the Frenzy. Shawlong will contact you later to negotiate payment." Aizen nodded, and Grimmjow began to stride towards his carriage, pulling out a handkerchief to start cleaning up his new slave on the way. He wanted that neck clean of the filth in the slave pens before he bit. Ichigo was being unusually docile for a ten-times-returned slave…perhaps he was scared by the thought of rebelling against a vampire Master? No, that wasn't it, Zaraki was one of the strongest vampires out there, for all that he wasn't a pure-blood with powers even vampires considered legendary, and this was the one who'd finally taken that brute down about fifty pegs.

When he checked, however, the brown eyes were hazy and fogged, blinking at him slowly like he wasn't quite sure what was going on. Aw fuck, that damn slave trader had given him a concussion and possibly amnesia- he heard humans often developed memory loss after hits to the head. "You'll be okay, little mate," he murmured reassuringly, "I'll make it better." The brown eyes crinkled in a smile. "Aye, an' Ah'll live t'see the morrow too, Ah suppose." Alarmed, Grimmjow held him tighter. "Why wouldn't you live to see tomorrow, little one?" The human laughed, breathlessly. "Unless ye be willin' t'donate, mah wounds'll be claimin' my life b'fiur the mornin'. Byakuya Kuchiki dinna take kindly ta mouthy slaves, lad." The vampire's eyes widened- a human that ingested vampire blood could be healed and in some cases even brought back to life, but you couldn't feed from that human for twelve hours afterward or you'd turn them into a ghoul unless they were a virgin, and if you owned a slave, they weren't a virgin. A virgin bitten before the twelve hours were up, however, would turn into a vampire themselves, which was nearly as bad because then they'd either feed from you (bad idea if you were already weak, which Grimmjow was) or they'd go hunting and get themselves killed by a rebel. Ichigo knew that Grimmjow couldn't afford to heal him, so by morning, he would be dead by default.

"No," he growled, "no. You will live, Ichigo Kurosaki, you will live for me and we will hunt together. I know a group that feeds starving vampires, they'll help us. You are my mate and I'll not lose you." Once safely home, Grimmjow changed Ichigo and it turned out that destined mates could always feed from each other and it would never weaken them, only strengthen them. Well, that explained why mates would do anything to find each other. Ichigo never did get officially "freed" from slavery by buying his way out, a fact that flattered Grimmjow to the extreme and made for some very, very fun roleplays once they were comfortable enough with each other (which amounted to Grimmjow spending almost two hundred years talking Ichigo into at least giving it a _try_) for such things. He never quite lost his Irish brogue either, particularly when he got...passionate. It always got Grimmjow hot to hear that heavy accent sneaking through, because it meant he was doing his job well. It also usually meant he could trick Icigo into trying something new.

Accept

When the Espada started coming to Ichigo and telling him they wanted to switch sides, one by one, he never questioned them, just brought them to Urahara and set them up there for negotiations with the shinigami. When he was informed that he was to be the liaison between the ten Espada and Soul Society because he was the only shinigami they didn't attack on sight, he only tilted his head to indicate he understood. And when the Winter War was over and he was appointed the captain of the fourteenth division dedicated solely to hybrids between hollow and soul reaper, both viziard and Arrancar alike, he took the captain's haori without a word and appointed his second-in-command (which was Kensei, for the simple reason that he wasn't too lazy but he wasn't too uptight either). When some of the more vocal opposition to his division and his rise to Captaincy questioned this, his reply to them was direct and delivered with a small sigh. "I do two things, when it comes to people. I protect them, and I accept them for who they are and how they live. I understand and accept that a hollow needs to eat souls to survive, and that as a result Arrancar have to feed on spiritual energy. I understand and accept that when a viziard's hollow gets antsy they can sometimes influence their counterpart into doing crazy shit. It's just how I work, and the people of my division follow me for that reason." As this was a public forum, the uproar only got worse as they questioned him further.

Much later, lounging in his division's specialized training grounds that was made to withstand their incredible spiritual pressure, Grimmjow turned his head to look at his captain from where he laid flat on his back in the dirt (he's just gotten thoroughly trounced in their weekly rematch). "Oi, Kurosaki…about what ya said t'them vultures. Why?" Prying open one eye, he looked over at Grimmjow, brow furrowing. "Why what?" Grimmjow chuckled, though it was still a tad breathless. Typical Kurosaki to forget what he'd said just that afternoon. "About acceptin' an' protectin' people being what you do. Why is that what ya do when the rest of yer species is so prejudiced?" Ichigo smiled just a little, on one side of his mouth. "You may not be aware of this Grimmjow, but I've seen ghosts all my life. As a kid, I tried explaining that I _saw_ people who weren't there to other kids- how well do you think that went over with humans who were too spiritually unaware to see what I saw?" As he considered it, Grimmjow visibly winced. Kids were way crueler than adults. "I…I see. I suppose that translated ta ya bein' willin' ta believe people an' take 'em as they are now that yer grown?" Ichigo's mouth relaxed again into a semi-straight line. "Mmmm-hhmmm." Grimmjow thought a moment. "I'm glad."

Ichigo's laughter rang though the compound so loudly that people outside the division swore Zaraki had broken in again.

Tears

Crying was not something either man was predisposed to. Not for any particular reason, it just wasn't something they did. In a situation where it would be normal to cry, Grimmjow went out and started killing and destroying things and Ichigo disappeared for a few days- nobody knew what he did or where he went, but whatever it was caused him to always return with multiple broken bones and clothes that were too bloodstained to ever be salvageable. But now, kneeling before the grave of what would've been their child if Grimmjow hadn't been jumped by thugs, the mated pair clasped hands, put their foreheads together, and let the tears come. There was nothing else to be done- well, except for killing the thugs, but that would come later. Much later. For now, they got as close to each other as they could possibly get and cried, holding onto each other hard. Their tears soaked the ground the knelt on as well as their shirts, and it would be a very, very long time before either man recovered enough from the tragedy to try for another baby.

Broken (WARNING: DARK!)

When Ulquiorra had thrown an unidentified bundle at his feet, Grimmjow had at first been wary of a trap. That little emo fucker liked to pull shit like that. His comment was even weirder, a casual, "I picked you up something while I was in the human world on a mission. You've been so concerned with that one shinigami trash I figured I would indulge you." With a sinking feeling in his gut, Grimmjow tore the cloth open and found Kurosaki- but it wasn't Kurosaki at all. He snatched him up and took him back to his room, disturbed with the lack of speech or movement from the man in his hold. Sitting him on the edge of the bed, the Arrancar knelt between the shinigami's legs and took his face in his hands to make the other look at him. "Shinigami." No reaction. Those brown eyes were dead and empty. "Kurosaki." Still nothing. "Ichigo!" A slow blink, but he appeared to be reacting more to the steady rising of panic that was audible in Grimmjow's voice than what he was saying. "Talk to me Kurosaki, what the hell happened to you?" Another slow blink. "I apologize, but I can no longer recall," was his quiet answer. The blue brows drew together- he'd never seen Kurosaki so submissive and it scared him a little. "You don't remember what happened to you directly before coming here?" Ichigo's tone was still soft and almost carefully blank. "I am not certain, but I believe I spent a great deal of time inside of Ulquiorra-san's illusions directly before coming here. I no longer have the ability to tell his illusions from reality." He paused. "Further, I am no longer certain what reality is at all." Grimmjow swallowed hard, then rose to his feet.

"This is objective reality. Ulquiorra's given ya ta me as a gift, and apparently he thought he was doin' me a favor by usin' his illusions ta 'train' ya first." Ichigo nodded, but said nothing. He had been too thoroughly broken, stripped of his fire and vitality. It made something in Grimmjow clench hard to see him like this, and he knew he'd never recover that fire completely, if at all. He ran his hand through the orange hair and kissed the boy's forehead. "I'm gonna go take this up with Ulquiorra- I wanted the _fire_ ya had, the defiance an' the fight, and he's gone and driven it all outta ya. Stay in th'room until I get back, alright?" Another nod and Grimmjow left the room. It felt very, very wrong to give the boy a direct order of any kind, so he had the feeling he would be asking instead of ordering for a long time. The sheer magnitude of a spirit like Kurosaki's being broken left him unsettled for years afterward (which had been Ulquiorra's goal, he discovered later). Though it felt so wrong it nearly made him sick, he designated Kurosaki his personal sex slave to keep the other Arrancar away from him and it was thus expected he sex him up thoroughly and often, which he did. It wasn't like he hadn't always been attracted to the kid, which made it just a little easier to manage, even if he still hated himself for doing it. The kid wasn't mentally able to consent, so it didn't matter that he never protested; it was still _rape_ and he'd never been able to stomach that even as a Saxon raider when he was alive. Grimmjow eventually got used to the flat voice and the emotionless face, he even got used to passionless sex, but he never got over those dead eyes. After a while he ordered the boy to wear a black cloth over his eyes at all times so he wouldn't have to see them and the completely broken expression that never left their depths in six hundred years of servitude.

Wings (Gargoyle Universe, sometime between Gargoyle and Lost; WARNINGS: Mind-fuckery, past rape and torture)

Watching his lover and mate glide over the countryside had always made Grimmjow yearn for a pair of wings. Gargoyles often could tell compatibility by how well they flew together- that's where "love at first flight" came from. Grimmjow wanted to know the joy that came from gliding over the landscape with your mate at your side, knowing that you were bonded forever and reveling in your freedom together. Thus it came one day that he went to the Mage and made a deal. He had to trade the Mage several pieces of his lover's stone skin (which he couldn't fathom why the Mage would want in the first place, as it was only stone after all) but the Mage would create the spell and counter-spell for what he wanted. When it was done, he waited until nightfall and then had the Mage cast the spell just as the sun finished setting. It was painful, incredibly so, but it worked and he roared to the sky of his victory. Ascending to the aerie, he noted how naturally he seemed to move in this new body, even though it had unfamiliar appendages. On reaching the top, he found himself confronted by a phalanx of Gargoyles that regarded him with suspicion. Well, he had to admit, he was made very differently than they were. He had indeed been turned into a Gargoyle by the Mage's spell, but he wasn't an Irish Gargoyle because he wasn't Irish- he was German! He was, he estimated, about seven and a half feet tall, average gargoyle height, but he had horns that swept back from his temples in a wave-like motion, arching and dipping to end with the lethally sharp points directed at the sky. His arms and tail had multiple hooked blade-like protrusions that, upon examination, were sharp enough to cut even Gargoyle skin, his tail also had an arrow-shaped tip typical of the more warlike Gargoyles, and his sky-blue mane was nearly down to his tail.

Scratching his head sheepishly, he opened his mouth to tell them who he was when he heard a war-horn. His head snapped around to face the direction it sounded from and he snarled gutturally. "Those damn Vikings again! Archers, up to the battlements! Cavalry, I want your horses tacked and ready to ride in twenty minutes! Ground soldiers, to me! I'll kill Hakon myself if I have to, but they'll not seize this castle!" Too busy barking orders (which were followed unquestioningly because his men knew the man was so stupid-in-love that turning himself into a Gargoyle wasn't all that far-fetched a thing to figure) and gearing up in his own battle armor, Grimmjow didn't notice the looks of dawning recognition on the faces of the other Gargoyles, nor the affronted expression on Ichigo's before he wiped it clean and launched into battle. After the battle, which was won when the attackers ran away from the onslaught of a type of gargoyle they'd never seen but fought like a lion and screamed like a banshee, Grimmjow packed in his men and returned to the aerie to look for his mate. He spent hours searching, but it seemed that nobody had seen him since he disappeared into the thick of battle. The guardsman began to fear for Ichigo's life; human-Gargoyle mated pairs were immortal, but what if by turning himself into a Gargoyle he'd made Ichigo mortal again and he was killed in the battle? He searched frantically and desperately, even going so far as to leave the castle to search the forest and battlefield. He was in the forest when dawn arrived, and before he could draw his next breath he'd turned to stone. His day was filled with nightmares of finding Ichigo's dead body and memories of the torture and rape he had endured before fleeing Germany, the nightmares soon blending together until he was watching Ichigo be raped, killed, and his corpse raped further. He burst from the stone skin with a scream.

The night terrors had been so real, so horrifying, that Grimmjow had to take a few moments to sob, collapsing where he stood. He had never told his mate why he'd fled Germany in shame and fear, only that he had and he wasn't ready to talk about it. He lay there for what felt like hours, shuddering, sobbing hysterically between gasps for air, and trying desperately to regain his composure. He hadn't quite stopped hyperventilating and the tears were still dripping off his face when he staggered to his feet and started making his way back towards the castle- he needed his mate, right now, and he could only pray someone had found him. He didn't make it there that night; turned out, he really _had_ lain there for hours upon hours, and by the time he'd gotten up there was less than half an hour until dawn. The night terrors returned his second day of stone sleep, just as bad but getting worse all the time. At dusk he broke from the stone with a keening wail that dissolved into hysterical sobs almost immediately and it took him two hours to fight his way to consciousness, to realize that night had fallen and he was no longer trapped in the nightmare. The realization brought with it an almost insane desperation to get home and find his mate. The terrors left him weak, however, and it took two more days, two more stone sleeps haunted by visions that left him trembling and hysterical, before he reached the castle.

When he arrived, he could barely stand. He dragged himself up the outer wall by strength of will alone, clawing at the stone until he made it to the top and pitched himself onto the ramparts. He called hoarsely, brokenly for Ichigo, and when he received no answer he finally succumbed to the nightmare that had been trying to drag him down during his waking hours for the past night. His mate wasn't coming because his mate was dead, and his own selfishness had been what got his love killed. Grimmjow cried out, a wordless screech of panic and despair that echoed through the castle, and descended into the depths of madness. The Gargoyles who found him had to restrain him and carry him back to the aerie- in his madness he sought to destroy himself to join his beloved on the other side. The oldest had seen this sort of grief-madness before, and a young one was sent to get many doses of the human's laudanum to keep him subdued. They knew if they let him wake even for a moment, he would fight until he was unable, then lash at himself until he was destroyed. They had seen it before. His mind was lost to them now, and he was a demon of destruction, rage, and grief. The Clan Leader ordered the tribal-marked adult, "Retrieve your rookery brother, Ichigo. His needless sulking has done him and us no good and he is the only one who can possibly bring Grimmjow back to us." Watching him glide towards the cliffs near their home, the Leader murmured, "And I pray he succeeds, because if he cannot, Gods help us all, for Grimmjow will self-destruct and take our clan with him." When Ichigo came, Grimmjow was screaming.

The orange-maned Gargoyle rushed inside to find his mate, still a Gargoyle, being held by ten of his strongest clansmen, forced to kneel so he couldn't strike out with his taloned feet. He was screaming that they must let him go, he deserved to die, he _had_ to die because he couldn't stand to live without Ichigo and _why_ were they stopping him? Dropping to his own knees, Ichigo forced his voice to be soothing as he answered, "Because I'm not dead, dear heart, I was just away from the castle. I was guarding the rookery after I saw a group of Vikings run toward the cliffs that hide it," he brought his talons up to hold Grimmjow's face and force him to look Ichigo in the eyes, "and I didn't know you would think I was injured or killed in battle." Grimmjow's eyes, still that oceanic blue, focused on him for a split second before he jerked back, out of his mate's grip. "No! You're dead, you're dead, don't haunt me like this, just let me die! This is why you made me live, to see this specter of my mate? You cannot be more cruel- just kill me, I beg of you!" One of the older Gargoyles laid a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, shaking her head. "He is deeper in the madness than that, lad. He is well-beyond reason, and judging by his condition has been for a few nights now. You have to make him _know_ in his soul that you live, because at the moment he _knows_ in his soul you are dead." Pressing his lips together, Ichigo turned back to Grimmjow. "Specter or not, _I am your mate_ and you promised you would never do anything to hurt me, my love. Do you not remember?" The blue-haired male began to cry again, voice raspy and broken. "Yes, and I failed." "Stop attempting self-harm then before you harm me further," Ichigo snapped.

At Grimmjow's arrested expression, the orange-haired adult continued, "Nothing hurts my heart, my spirit, more than you see you hurting yourself. Watching you try to kill yourself tears me apart, mate. Stop it, before you fail me again. And what of our egg, waiting patiently in the rookery for the right time to hatch? Did you intend to abandon that as well?" Blinking, Grimmjow peered at him almost owlishly. "An…egg? When did you lay?" Ichigo frowned, reaching out to run his talons through the blue hair he loved so much. "Nigh on a month ago, now. I was gone for three nights, one night to prepare, one night to lay, and one night to recover. Do you not remember?" "No, I…" Grimmjow shook his head, his brows drawing together in confusion. "I remember nothing of an egg, our egg, or you laying it. I remember only you, my love, and failing you. Before that…Germany. My motherland. Pain, much pain, and torture. Sometimes you were there, tortured as I watched, and sometimes you were not…there is nothing before the torture." He looked up into his mate's brown eyes, beseeching. "I am… missing pieces, aren't I, my love? Very, very large pieces?" Ichigo nodded, inwardly reeling at the discovery that Grimmjow had been tortured before leaving his homeland. However, he could not afford to go over that now- it seemed he was on the verge of reaching Grimmjow in whatever hell-pit he was trapped inside. "Yes, beloved, and it is time to remember."

Gesturing for his clansmen to let him go, he took his mate by the hand and rose to his feet, then gently pulled him outside. "Come. You have lived here, with me, at Castle Ragnarok for five years. You and I have been mated for two. You have loved me since before our mating, though you never told me quite when it happened. We will go to your room, and we will mate again so you know I am real and you are real and the nightmares cannot hurt you anymore." Coming along quietly and obediently, Grimmjow tilted his head to the side curiously. "Nightmares, my love?" "Yes," Ichigo replied as his tail pushed open the door to Grimmjow's private rooms, "waking ones that affected you after the battle. I do not know all of what you dreamed, but my torture and death was some of it. Do you remember the battle, dear heart?" Grimmjow nodded, his eyes beginning to clear somewhat. "Then it was naught but a dream? You never suffered beneath Gin or Aizen or General Barragan?" Ichigo pulled his mate down onto the nest of blankets they'd built an age ago. "Beloved, the Germans have no idea Gargoyles are more than stonework; if I had met these men I would have killed them for laying hand on you and they would not have anything strong enough to hold or stop me. It was but a nightmare." He pulled Grimmjow atop him, but his mate paused. "No, beloved. Not this time. Tonight, I want you to take me- prove you are not a mirage or a specter, as it is not a feeling I have known before and could not be conjured up by a grief-torn mind. Erase the memory of Aizen's touch from me, I cannot stand it! I can still feel his hands upon me, make it stop!" Ichigo could feel tremors racking the body of his mate, and wrapped his wings around him. "Are you sure, Grimmjow? My touch wouldn't bring back the memory more vividly?"

Grimmjow pulled his mate close and flipped them so he was the one underneath. "No, beloved, your talons chase his hands away. I need that right now." Ichigo kissed his mate, running his talons everywhere he could reach, wanting those hands to leave. It wasn't long until Grimmjow's trembling stopped, then restarted for a much better reason, his breath hitching as Ichigo began kissing down his chest, worshipping every inch of the body he was re-learning. When their tails twined, he moaned, talons digging into the sheets of their nest. "Oh god…I never knew it felt like _that_, Ichi." Ichigo hummed and gave a firming nipple a light suck. "Now you see why I love it when you grab my tail right before climax." Grimmjow's reply was a louder, deeper moan, his arms coming around Ichigo's shoulders and one hand burying in his mane. That night Ichigo did everything he'd ever dreamed of, used every trick Grimmjow had taught him, and even a few of the kinkier things that he'd never considered before his mate suggested them (using his tail the same way he would use his cock, for instance). When Grimmjow sheepishly told him the reason he'd begged and bribed to be turned into a Gargoyle was mostly so he could fly with his mate, Ichigo thought it was the most romantic thing he'd ever heard and proceeded to show his love exactly how much he appreciated the gesture for the rest of the night. The next evening, Grimmjow commented that he'd never been more pleasantly sore and stiff in his life and he rather liked it. Ichigo informed him that was good because (little known fact) a Gargoyle always got pregnant the first time he or she had sex in which they were the one that was taken, and Grimmjow would be laying an egg in nine weeks and would have to stay a Gargoyle for those nine weeks to ensure the child didn't kill him.

Grimmjow only laughed and said it was fine by him- just as long as Ichigo was there to help him when he went to lay, as he would have no idea what he was doing. After all, nothing quite kept your mind off painful memories than being with child and concerning yourself with the hell that was a pregnancy, right?

(Note: I do realize that Grimmjow emerges from the madness seemingly very quickly, but between what he _knew_ were nightmares and the 'missing peices' he's so confused that the only thing he holds as REAL is the fact that Ichigo is his mate and thus whatever Ichigo tells him has to be true- mates don't lie to each other. He went through several months of replases into insanity that Ichigo had to draw him out of after this prompt.)

Pure

Grimmjow hadn't realized it until tonight, but he'd somehow always perceived Kurosaki as somehow different from anything he'd ever known, almost like a mythical creature that he wanted to capture and tame for his own. Despite the fighting and the pain, he'd always seen the teenager as pure, somehow. But of course, thick as he is (which he freely admits to- he's _dense_, not _slow_), he was coming to the conclusion that the boy wasn't as innocent as he led others, to believe. The boy drank. He'd picked up smoking somewhere. He fought in underground matches. Occasionally he worked at an escort service when they needed an extra pretty face. All of these were highly illegal for a fifteen-year-old! The only purity left in that kid was his physical innocence, and Grimmjow was beginning to suspect that wouldn't last much longer either. He had never really desired Kurosaki outside of a fight, but right now, as he watched the teen mop the blood from his face as he emerged from his final fight of the night, he wanted to touch him. It wasn't sexual- God no, he was just a kid for hell's sake! He just wanted to know what that innocence felt like before it was gone, given to some unworthy stranger who wouldn't even treasure the gift. It could be said that for the first time, Grimmjow's soul had pure intentions. He crept silently into the boy's room after he finally fell asleep (he had to stalk him for a week to wait for that to happen; Ichigo had apparently picked up these habits to have something to do with all the time he spent _not sleeping_) and just touched him slowly, skimming his fingers over the grainy skin of a man who spent too much time working and training. He had hoped for, _expected_, soft skin like a child, and was disappointed not to find it. More innocence lost. Grimmjow vaguely wondered when it had happened.

Quietly lamenting that this boy had lost what little childhood he'd kept, Grimmjow didn't noticed Ichigo slowly opening his eyes, tensing up, gradually relaxing, or closing his eyes to sleep again. He left, unknowing that the purity he searched for had been, for a few moments, in Ichigo's expression when he watched Grimmjow softly pet him with no aggression whatsoever.

Visitor (Warning: mild darkness present, violence and torture, but only briefly mentioned)

Grimmjow honestly hadn't expected to find the shinigami in a big while building full of sick people. The stench of sickness and antiseptic and things he'd rather not think about sent him reeling, but he wanted to see Kurosaki badly enough to force down his stomach and go inside to search for him. He found him after following the mutterings of a few nurses coming down the hallway. "It's terrible what happened to that poor orange-haired young man," a busty blond said tiredly, looking haunted and world-weary. "Jumped for his hair color and…and…violated so horribly. It gets worse every time we see him, and next time we lay eyes on him I fear he'll be in a body bag." A slightly younger nurse with her, a shell-shocked brunette, was crying and shaking. "How can people do such things to one another? I don't understand it, I never will, and now that boy will never recover! He's only fifteen, still a child really, and now he's ruined for the rest of his life!" Green eyes hard, the blond shook her head. "He's young and strong, he'll heal…eventually. I don't understand how people can stand to do such things either, though I'll make sure that boy makes it to adulthood at least. I can't say he'll ever let anyone touch him again, but he will live and be able to close his eyes without reliving it after enough time." Grimmjow also had a feeling, call it the intuition of a fellow hunter, that the ones who did the jumping and violating would turn up in body bags themselves, or in the river ten years from now. "Remember to keep a SWAG on him- room 207." Having a definite location now, Grimmjow made his way to a room that had 207 branded on the door and entered stealthily. No point in startling an already injured opponent into hurting himself further.

"I feel you there. Do not hide from me." Mildly alarmed by the boy's newfound sensitivity, Grimmjow jumped when the soft, hoarse voice caught him off guard and stepped forward more fully into the light. "So ya know the feel of my reiatsu now, eh shinigami?" There was a rustling of cloth, but he still couldn't see Kurosaki. "I only said I felt you, not that I knew who you were, at least until you spoke. Why did you come?" Grimmjow scratched the back of his neck, confused but unwilling to let his enemy know that. "I was lookin' fer a fight, but uh…if yer in a place that smells like this, ya can't be doin' good so I guess that's out." A laugh that held so much bitterness and scorn that Grimmjow's hair stood on end echoed through the room. "That's an understatement. I won't be doing anything at all until I relearn how to live with my condition. I'll probably never fight again." That thought sent chills down the Espada's spine. Blasphemy! A man like Kurosaki, not fight? Devil's tongue! Realizing he'd fallen back on phrases that had tumbled out of his mouth when he was still alive vaguely disturbed him, because it meant he was shaken to the core by the conviction in that voice. "An what is yer…um, condition?" The bitter laugh came again and the panther in him had to fight not to bolt away from that sound.

"You haven't figured it out yet? My my, Grimmjow, I'm disappointed in you. Surely you can tell what my condition is…perhaps it'll be helpful to you if you get closer." Kurosaki finally sat up completely, which let Grimmjow see the bandages around his torso and particularly the ones higher up that were so soaked there were blood trails making their way down his cheeks to drop off his chin. He had been blinded. The older male staggered from the shock, grabbing onto a nearby dresser to stay standing. "H-holy _fuck_, Kurosaki, not your eyes!" A humorless smile tilted Ichigo's mouth and despite his desire to flee it drew Grimmjow in like a moth to a flame. "Yes, my eyes. If I remember correctly, you commented that you hated them, didn't you? Well, this is something even Orihime probably can't fix, so you'll never have to see them again." Slightly panicked, Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo's face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones to hold him steady. "_Don't tell me that!_ Goddamn it, I said that in the heat of battle- I didn't fucking _mean_ it! This is gonna make me sound like a pussy but yer eyes in the middle of battle when yer _really_ tryin'a kill me are th'most beautiful things I've ever seen. There's nothin' more that I wanna see again than that, which is the point o' comin' after ya all the time!" Ichigo snorted dryly, jerking his head from the Arrancar's grip but proving that ineffective when his face was caught again immediately by the large, warm hands. "Well then you're just shit outta luck, ain't ya?" Grimmjow whined. "Why can't the woman heal ya?"

Ichigo sighed, one of his hands starting to grope around the side of the bed as though searching for something. "Something Aizen did to her while she was under his control stripped her of any control over her own powers. She couldn't heal a papercut right now. Probably won't be able to until after this has healed over so thoroughly it's become permanent even beyond her ability." Having noted Ichigo's hoarse rasp, which was probably a result of continuous screaming as his eyes were gouged out, the Arrancar guessed he was trying to find the cup of water and automatically handed it to him- it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. The teen murmured his thanks and sipped the water slowly, knowing that if he gulped it down he'd likely choke. Abruptly he felt something soft, warm, and wet gliding over his bloodied cheeks and after a moment of shocked stalling his brain engaged and he realized that Grimmjow was _licking_ the blood trails. Now, whether the panther was doing it because he was just that fond of shinigami blood or for a reason Ichigo could not fathom was debatable, so he made a questioning sound. "Er, Grimmjow-" "It's just a hollow thing," the Espada cut him off, "its jus' what we do when we find somethin' or someone that's injured that we don't plan on eatin'. It's a cat thing too; whatever they did ta ya is real messy an' I can't resist th'urge ta clean ya up a lil'." Deciding it wasn't a good idea to question it when he was already near-helpless, Ichigo accepted that as enough of an explanation and shut up with a small sound. From then on during his recovery in the hospital, he had one regular visitor every night. One particularly picky visitor that always insisted that the nurses didn't clean the wounds right and insisted on doing it himself…one with huge, warm hands and an almost instinctual knowing of what Ichigo needed at any given moment that still stuns him to this day.

(A/N) *rereads several of these and then goes back to label them with warnings* I, uh, wow. I usually don't do dark and it kinda shows, don't it? Yeah, we've GOT to keep me away from horror movies or rape and torture and blindness for my characters become prevalent. Bad author, bad! Don't write things you've been trying to stay away from!


	5. Numbers 41 to 50

Religion

Until Aizen had come and started talking about the 'Throne of Heaven' and how he would be God, Hueco Mundo had never known the idea of religion. Nevertheless, as best Grimmjow could figure, Aizen wasn't the God-in-the-making. As Aizen told it, and Grimmjow understood it, you had to start human, then evolve into something else, then get strong enough to be the ruler of whatever you were, _then_ you got elevated to 'God' status. Aizen, contrary to what he said, did not qualify- his power level was nowhere near high enough for him to be ruler of all shinigami, and he hadn't started as a human but a soul reaper. Therefore, by Grimmjow's reckoning, Aizen was a false God and following him was not the religion he claimed. There was, however, someone that _was_ a candidate- a God-in-the-making and a _true_ religious leader, someone who had a belief system the blunet could understand and follow whole-heartedly. Ichigo Kurosaki. He'd started out human, become a soul reaper, had enough reiatsu to beat the Captains and even most captain-and-above level Arrancar and Espada (and was getting stronger every moment he breathed, it seemed), and was well on his way to becoming all that Aizen had defined to them was a 'God'. He did what he had to or thought he had to regardless of forbiddance by his elders and so-called 'superiors', often with little regard for his own life, and he, as all leaders are cursed, most of the time had no real choice. Of course, it could always be argued he had a choice, but he was a leader, and whatever is said otherwise, a leader or King never truly has that luxury. A true leader does what is best for his people, whether he wants to or not, and this was displayed in Ichigo as his "kingdom" expanded. First, his kingdom had consisted of his family and a few close friends. Then, as he began making friends with a soul reaper and saving all the souls he could around his hometown, all of Karakura became his kingdom. When the black-haired woman had been captured and slated for execution, he'd had no choice at all. He had to save her.

This he accomplished, nearly sacrificing himself in the effort several times along the way. He collected more subjects, more friends, as he went, expanding his kingdom further, overlapping into Soul Society. Next, Aizen had betrayed the shinigami and several of those in Kurosaki's kingdom had been endangered. He did his best to defend them, and though it got him sliced in half and very nearly killed, he was enough of a distraction that all those he led and considered part of his kingdom, his following, survived. Then came the Winter War when Aizen escaped…threatening Ichigo's Kingdom in its' entirety. Really, the boy had had no choice at all. So Grimmjow figured Ichigo was a God, his God, whose commands were ones he already followed: battle for the sake of battle, but do not let it go to your head; protect what is yours; do not let your own preferences or your own battles get in the way of your duties to that which is yours. Simple rules, but hard ones to live by. And so, Grimmjow lived by them, worshipping at the altar of battle with the only one who could accept his offering- Kurosaki himself. As steel clashed with armor, blades bit into flesh, and blood splattered white and black robes, Grimmjow laughed. This religion stuff was worth it, when you got right down to it, if you actually believed.

Family (Sort-of sequel to the GrimmIchi music drabble, the bonus one, written to Breaking The Habit)

Ichigo had known, right from the start, he wanted a family someday. Not a particularly large one, and not immediately, but it was in the back of his mind as an eventuality. Adopting a baby girl after he killed her father hadn't exactly been what he had planned, but what else could he do? He hadn't known that Orihime and Ulquiorra had even been together, much less that she was pregnant by him! Orihime herself hadn't known until after they rescued her. It had only been his poor luck that Ulquiorra couldn't be revived, but he had nevertheless taken the infant and woman for himself. Of course, since he wasn't the one his wife actually desired and she hated him with good reason, he did virtually everything for the babe. Thus, when little Yukihiko (he'd had to name her) asked why he didn't have a mommy Ichigo was prepared for the question. Mommy doesn't like Daddy much, he explained, so she doesn't spend a lot of time at home. Daddy hurt her on accident once, the heart kind of hurt, and it reminded her of it when she saw Yuki, so she pretends Daddy and Yuki aren't there. Yuki, her green eyes afire, had said that in that case she and Daddy could pretend Mommy didn't exist either. Ichigo had just laughed. Four years later and he'd stopped wearing his wedding ring, because even if they weren't officially divorced they were legally separated- he hadn't seen Orihime in two years. He was in the living room, reading the paper as he waited for her to get home from school (something he'd started doing two years before, when he'd become the boss of his accounting firm and finally been able to work out of his home) when the door opened and a hesitant "Daddy?" reached his ear. Immediately, he put the paper down.

Grimmjow had been spying on this pair for three years, ever since he'd come looking to collect on the promise Kurosaki had made him and found it was too late, and he'd never heard _that_ tone before, but he knew what it meant. It wasn't just "Daddy?" it was "Daddy-something-bad-happened-and-I'm-afraid-you'll-be-mad-at-me". Worse, he could smell blood. Worried for the child (he'd grown rather attached as he watched her grow up) he hopped onto the balcony and peered in through the glass door. The eight-year-old had her head down, her black bangs hiding her eyes from her father as she fidgeted uncomfortably. Visibly concerned, Kurosaki knelt in front of her and used one hand under her chin to make her look up, exposing an already darkening black eye. As he hissed sympathetically, Yuki glanced up into his eyes before looking back at the floor- oh yeah, Grimmjow knew that look. Something she'd done had resulted in that black eye, and she'd probably had it coming, so she _really_ didn't want to explain it but knew she'd have to. "Yukihiko," Kurosaki said sternly, "what happened?" "Well," she said in an embarrassed tone, "the boys at school were making fun of me because I told them I don't have a mommy so I beat them up after school. One of 'em managed to get me good though." Kurosaki facepalmed, while Grimmjow grinned proudly from his perch. _Thatta girl, baby, that's my girl!_ Yuki finally looked her father in the eye, brown to fierce emerald. "They deserved it, Daddy." Behind his hand, Kurosaki grinned. "Remember how I said sometimes it's okay to beat people up? That was one of them." Unable to help it, Grimmjow burst out laughing.

Both Ichigo and Yukihiko jumped at the harsh sound, Ichigo because he recognized it and Yuki because it was the first time the floating man with the blue hair had ever made noise. Watching her Daddy trip on the rug and fall flat on his back when he tried to turn around too fast made her giggle, and she ran over to the Floating Blue Man. "Was Daddy tellin' the truth, mister?" The man unfolded from the balcony railing (and he was much taller than she thought he was) to pat her head and muss her hair gently like Daddy did sometimes when he was tired. "Yep, squirt, he was right. That was definitely one of the times it's okay to beat people up. Me an' yer Daddy know all about _that_, and if _you_ hadn't walloped 'em _I_ would've. You DID wallop 'em good, right?" She nodded rapidly, humming in happiness when his big, warm fingers rubbed the base of her horns. "I got 'em so good it looks like I strapped 'em!" The Floating Blue Man grinned so wide at her declaration that the teeth on the outside of his cheek grinned too and then he laughed again. "Thatta girl, Yuki," he murmured, his eyes going soft and warm just like Daddy's did, "Thatta girl. I'm Grimmjow by the way." She tilted her head to the side a little. "Daddy's Grimmjow?" Neither saw it, but Ichigo flushed red from collarbone to hairline.

Grimmjow just raised one blue brow in question. "Well, Daddy has a favorite person," Yuki explained, "that he likes and cares about almost as much as me. I think his name is Grimmjow but I'm not sure 'cuz Daddy says strange things in his sleep and sometimes he has nightmares. So are you Daddy's Grimmjow?" Further into the apartment, the panther heard Kurosaki's muttered "Oh God" and it made him smirk. "I don't know, kit. Am I, Kurosaki?" With a sigh, Ichigo finally got up from where he'd fallen and walked into the kitchen to get a refrigerated cold pack for his daughter's eye. "Yeah," he called from around the corner, "you are _my_ Grimmjow." While the Arrancar was stunned by this revelation, Yuki giggled and hugged his waist. "I knew Daddy must've known you from somewhere! Why else would you follow us around for so long?" Suddenly it was Grimmjow's turn to blush and Ichigo's turn to smirk as he handed his little girl the cold pack and looked straight at Grimmjow. "Followed us around for so long, hmm?" The friendly ribbing stopped right there, however, when Yuki asked from under her cold pack, "Daddy, does this mean I get a Papa too, like Kurion?" Both men blushed, and Grimmjow tried to explain (through a stutter he'd suddenly developed) that he and her Daddy didn't like each other that much or _that way_, where Ichigo promptly cut him off that Grimmjow was the kind of person only special people could see, just like her horns were special, so they couldn't both be her Daddy anyway. This startled Grimmjow, who stared at Ichigo, because it contradicted his assumption that Kurosaki was unavailable. Yuki pouted and said she liked him better than the Pineapple Man.

Chuckling, Ichigo picked his daughter up and put her in his chair, letting her settle in as he went to go make dinner for them. "You never did like Renji. Not when I was dating him, and not before or after. What do you have against him anyway?" Yuki turned to look at the wall, expression abruptly sad. "I didn't wanna tell you because it would heart hurt you, Daddy, but Pineapple Man always made sparkly eyes at women even when he was dating you, and I think he went home with some of them. He was a no-good-filthy-rotten-cheating-dog and I'm glad he's gone now." Grimmjow swallowed. "I remember 'im. Wanted t'tear him apart fer doin' that…I hated how he dared come back 'ere reekin' of them loose women." Ichigo sighed, hidden from sight by the kitchen doorway. "I know. That's why I broke up with him." Deciding this warranted some private discussion, Grimmjow gave Yuki's hair another thorough ruffling with his hand and proceeded into the kitchen. "Oi," he said softly, coming up behind Ichigo, "ya didn't say you don't like me the way you oughta like yer wife." He snorted. "I've always preferred men and her mother hates my guts for killing her biological father- Ulquiorra." _Whoa_. That stopped Grimmjow dead. "You mean t'tell me…? Well fuck me, definitely didn't see that coming." Putting one hand on his hip, Ichigo turned around just long enough to flick the blunet in the forehead. "I'm human, and presumably any partner of mine that could bear children would be human or shinigami, so where the hell did ya think she got the horns from?"

Rubbing the red spot forming on his forehead, Grimmjow had to admit that it made sense. He wasn't happy to admit it, but he admitted it nonetheless. Sure, the kid's hollow form had horns, but they were much, much larger and differently shaped than the girl's. Watching Ichigo return to his cooking, the Espada couldn't help thinking it would be nice to he human, to go to work and come home to that every day, a beautiful man willing to be a house-husband and as best a father as he could be. The mortality and weakness would be worth it. He wondered what it would be like, to have a family. A bit shyly, he asked Ichigo, "Hey shinig- um, Ichigo…d'ya think maybe you could give me a try? I already know I like the kit, and I'm pretty fond of you, so maybe you'd lemme try this whole…family thing? I uh…sounds stupid, but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't you an' her." That made Ichigo pause, but after a moment he moved again, saying cautiously, "If you wanna stick around and give it a try with us, I'm sure as hell not gonna stop you. Ya just better learn to do laundry and clean." Grimmjow wrapped his arms around Ichigo's waist and nuzzled his shoulder. "I'll cook fer ya sometimes too- can't let ya do all the work 'round here."

Shoes

Grimmjow, when he had discovered Ichigo's place of residence, had been delighted at the prospect of fighting him whenever he wanted. This, of course, led to him studying his prey to learn his habits, which led to the discovery of something he'd never seen before- footwear that covered the entire foot _and_ climbed up the leg, sometimes all the way to the knee. He had no idea what they were, but he wanted to find out. So one day, during the eight-hour stretch that Kurosaki spent away from his den, Grimmjow went in through the window and started to examine them. They sure as hell weren't anything like the sandals that were standard Arrancar uniform, or even the ones that the shinigami wore in spirit form. The majority of the thing smelled like dye and tanned animal hide, so it must've been dyed leather, but the bottoms were of a strange substance he wasn't familiar with. It had elasticity and give, but always conformed back to the original shape. It seemed that it would be extremely comfortable to walk on. Further, this was one that went up to the knee, and it had steel buckles all up the length from around where the ankle would be when wearing it, held in place by leather straps. Probably for tightening it around the leg, but if that was the goal, wouldn't regular laces have been better? Maybe this was specialized footwear of some sort…he was so engrossed in his perusal that he didn't notice the shinigami had returned until he spoke. "Oi, Grimmjow. What the hell are you doing with my stuff?" The panther jumped up, startled, and nearly dropped the thing. "Shit shinigami, I was just trying to figure out what the hell this thing is. I ain't ever seen 'em before," he growled, thrusting it at the teenager. Confused, the boy caught it almost automatically, staring at Grimmjow a moment before he actually looked down at what he was holding. "Oh, this. It's a boot. It's a combat boot, to be specific; I wear them when I'm…expecting trouble. It's heavy-duty, so it comes in handy when fighting hand-to-hand."

Now Grimmjow looked confused. "Who the hell do you fight hand-to-hand that ya need special 'boots' fer?" Grinning, Ichigo took the partner to the boot he held and set it by his desk chair, then started taking a poorly-repaired, bloodstained outfit that was entirely ruined for everyday use out of the darkest corner of his closet. As he started changing into the ruined clothes, he commented, "Follow me when I leave and you'll find out." Watching the muscles of the smaller male move, Grimmjow mentally thanked whatever Kami was listening that the boy wasn't shy and fought not to drool. He'd never known how built the kid was under those big ass baggy robes. Unable to control the urge to lick his lips at the sight of that luscious ass, Grimmjow trailed after his owner- errr, his _prey_ as he left the house and silently thanked his curiosity that had forced him to examine those weird shoes. He rather liked watching that ass move underneath those jeans, and he had to admit the boy looked good, damn good, _deliciously good_, in his 'combat boots'. He decided he liked boots.

Gay

Spying wasn't Grimmjow's strong point. He was more of a charge-first-think-later, go-in-swinging-and-go-out-the-same-way kind of guy. It was just the way he worked. It had never been his intention to find out about Kurosaki's personal life, only his physical weaknesses. Open spots in his guard, flaws in his stance, places that were present every time he fought that Grimmjow could take advantage of, that sort of thing. He hadn't meant to find out that the boy was _involved_ with a man. Several men, actually, one right after the other. He couldn't seem to find one that would stick, one that would stay. It frustrated him to no end. It was even starting to irritate Grimmjow, and he didn't even have anything invested in the situation except for passing interest. Explained why the kid was so vicious in battle, though, particularly when he'd just gotten rid of another one (he thought the phrase was 'broke up' or 'dumped'; he was never sure what the fuck the terminology was these days for courtship). One day, after discarding what was maybe the thirtieth or fortieth male that only wanted sex and no attachments whatsoever, which he was apparently averse to, the boy threw back his head and roared at the sky. "AM I SERIOUSLY THE ONLY GAY GUY IN THIS TOWN WHO ISN'T AN ABSOLUTE BASTARD?" Hmm. That was new- there was actually a label for men who liked other men now. 'Gay', as Grimmjow was familiar with it, had simply meant 'happy', or more commonly, 'deliriously happy'. It was interesting that they used that same word to describe male-preferring men. Of course, now that he was this deep in it (he could recognize almost all of Ichigo's previous beaus on sight and name more than half) he couldn't tear himself away from the unfolding real-life drama. It was just too much fun to watch and hear.

Then, it seemed he finally found one that was worth a damn. A sweet little thing that really liked him and put up with his constant disappearances. Unfortunately, it turned out that one was a man-eater that had a particular liking for claiming virginities and then disappearing, from the screaming, violent, very public parting they had. Both of them screamed at each other and Grimmjow swore that if his big Spanish friend hadn't been holding him back Ichigo would've torn the little fucker apart. Particularly when the bastard expressed his disappointment that Ichigo hadn't "given it up" after a month of going steady- even Grimmjow wanted to fuck him up for that one. It was a man's prerogative to decide who he wanted to fuck and who he wanted to fuck him and it wasn't the partner's place to pry or try to force it! Two and a half months of watching this go on and he couldn't hold his tongue anymore. He came up behind Ichigo, who was watching his latest attempt at a relationship walk away, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ya need ta start goin' after dead people, shinigami, like that tasty redhead. These living world morons just ain't cuttin' it." He was surprised, after a moment, to be looking up at the sky with his back aching as though he'd been whipped. "Holy- fuck, Grimmjow, don't _do_ that! It doesn't work that way anyhow- all the shinigami I know are either straight or taken." Despite still being dazed- and was the wet stuff he could feel oozing through his hair blood or was he hit just that hard?- he managed to grin up at Kurosaki. "Then start going after Espada. God knows any of us, minus that emo fuck Ulquiorra, ain't likely t'turn you down." Ichigo snorted. "And I suppose all the Espada are gay then, including you?"

Grimmjow appeared to actually consider that for a moment. "Well, since Hallibel's female, I'm going to assume she's straight," he replied, "but other than that, yeah. And with your ever-growing power levels, we'd go for you in a heartbeat. Hell, most of us wouldn't mind matin' ya- that's sorta like the Hollow version of marriage." The kid blinked, then laughed. "Gay and willing to marry me, Jesus. Maybe I _should_ start going after Espada." Getting up, Grimmjow couldn't help the lecherous leer or the completely involuntary licking of his lips as he looked Ichigo up and down. "Yeah shinigami, you should. You also oughta start with _me_. Maybe even right now. In yer room, if ya don't wanna get caught talkin' ta yerself in public." Kurosaki snorted, but gestured for Grimmjow to follow him home. Grimmjow mused to himself that maybe being 'gay' would be fun.

Traditions

If humans had their traditions and shinigami had theirs, Grimmjow had one too. Personally, he thought all the little holidays and rules and fucking retarded traditions humans and shinigami had were absolutely pointless, but his, on the other hand, was special. His tradition was, every Friday night, to pop up in the human world and see how far Kurosaki had progressed in his training that week. It was a simple tradition, one he faithfully kept up. Kurosaki caught on by the third week and now hung around the same park at about the same time on Fridays to indulge the panther Arrancar. Except one Friday he wasn't there. Mildly irritated, Grimmjow searched him out. He found him at a graveyard, kneeling before a particular stone that had new offerings put there recently, probably by the boy himself. Grimmjow hung back until Kurosaki was finished, and when the pair left for the park, he never said a word. He was adamant enough in his own tradition to recognize someone else keeping to theirs. He also wasn't enough of a jackass to ridicule him for it, even if he didn't understand it.

Season

Mating Season. Heat. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was back, and the hollows were going goddamn crazy. Grimmjow himself could feel his body betraying him, giving in to the lust and the need to just _fuck_ whatever he could sink his claws into. He needed to find something and screw it through the floor, and he wasn't feeling particularly picky. He'd retreated to the human world because the violence his "brothers" and "sisters" displayed during their (very, very PUBLIC) rutting wasn't particularly appealing, and the second he tasted Kurosaki's reiatsu on the air he hadn't been able to contain his moan of delight. Oh, fuck, that was good, and he _wanted_, goddamn it! When the teen himself arrived, Grimmjow took him by the collar of his uniform and pulled him flush against his own overheating body. "I know ya don't like me much, shinigami," he growled against the tanned skin of his neck, "but indulge me, because it's fuckin' mating season and I don't get off on torture like the other Espada so you're my only prospect." Clutching Grimmjow's shoulders to try and ground himself, the substitute soul reaper groaned in his ear. "Hard ta…turn you down when you…urgh, keep touchin' me like that…" Aw hell, that voice and that husky groan made him hot all over. Now he really had to have _this_ shinigami, no other would do at this point. Licking any skin he could reach, he let his hands knead at the muscle of the younger's ass and demanded to know where they could go that had four walls and a bed. He personally wouldn't have minded doing this on the nearest rooftop, but he had a feeling that Kurosaki would prefer this to be private.

The next thing he knew the shinigami had flash stepped them into a room with a saccharine scent that was attempting and failing to mask the stench of this room being used over and over for sex. Love hotel- he could work with that. They had barely touched the floor when he started shedding clothes, his three-quarter jacket being the first to go and followed quickly by Kurosaki's gi. They fought to get rid of the shinigami uniform for a moment, growing frustrated when it tangled around his hips and elbows, but with a few more hard yanks it pooled on the floor and he stood naked and blushing under Grimmjow's hungry blue gaze. Loving that blush but displeased by the way the boy covered himself, the Arrancar evened it out by shucking his own hakama carelessly and purring when the darkened amber eyes swept over him from head to foot and liked what they saw, darkening further. Grimmjow pounced, using his tongue and teeth and hands to drive Ichigo as crazy as he was getting, worshipping every inch of the tanned skin he could touch. Nipping at the copper-colored nipples and reveling in the heady moans and groans he was forcing out of the younger male, he played with them for a few moments more before diving down to the treat he'd been working towards. The thick, reddened cock lay hard and dripping against the shinigami's stomach, almost reaching his navel. Looking at that magnificent length made his ass clench, and for a moment Grimmjow (to his surprise) couldn't tell whether he wanted to suck it or ride it until he was raw. He settled with telling himself he'd have Ichigo top him later and right now he wanted to taste it.

Watching his entire dick disappear down Grimmjow's throat was almost too much for the inexperienced teenager and he threw his head back with a low cry and tried to convince himself that he didn't want to come just yet. It worked right up until the panther got impatient and started fondling his balls while digging his tongue into the little bump situated where the head met the shaft- his frenulum. He lost it then, coming with a hoarse moan that was the only warning he had enough breath to give. Grimmjow swallowed it down like it was ambrosia, licking his lips to catch what stubbornly wouldn't stay in his mouth, and kissed his way back up the lithe body underneath him. Ichigo was still shaking with aftershocks, clutching the sheets in a death grip because he didn't know what else to do with his hands. Grimmjow looked at his hands, then nipped at his knuckles, which made him let go in surprise. He licked the crescents the strong fingers had pressed into the palms with short nails, then placed the tanned hands on his own shoulders. "Touch me," he rumbled sensually, "lemme feel your pleasure. Go ahead an' dig in yer nails, make me bleed. It tells me I'm doin somethin' right." Ichigo obliged, not entirely sure what he was doing, but willing to indulge Grimmjow anyway. Noting the hesitation, Grimmjow suddenly had a sneaking suspicion and dove back down, shoving his nose back behind and underneath the teen's balls; the scent of pure _Ichigo_ there informed him what he had begun to suspect- that he was pure virgin. He groaned at both the scent and the knowledge it gave him, feeling something inside him unsheathe and lock in place. If he'd still been in panther form that would've been his dick peeking out. As he was a humanoid, he wasn't sure exactly what it was and looked to find out.

"Holy shit, Ichi, look what ya did t'me! I didn't even know I _have_ barbs on my dick until you brought 'em out!" Abruptly, he felt nails dig into his shoulders and smelt fear. "Barbs?" The unease and naked fear in that one word made him regret saying anything. To try and alleviate that fear, he sat back so Ichigo could get a good look. "Yeah, little backward-facing barbs with rounded edges that popped out when I smelled yer innocence. Here, feel." Grabbing one hand, he guided it to the place the barbs had cropped up, right under the crown of his cock, and rubbed both their fingers over them back and forth. It felt like nothing he'd ever known before, and he felt his knees go weak at the sensation so he had to hold himself up with his hands. As he shuddered, he noted in the back of his mind that Ichigo didn't seem to be afraid anymore- the barbs were velvety soft even when you were moving against them, with only slight resistance and a decent amount of give like cartilage. He figured that they wouldn't hurt, which was why he wanted Ichigo to play with them in the first place. The last thing he wanted was to scare his little virgin bedmate. A second hand joined the first on his now-barbed length, and he let a deep moan vibrate through his chest to show his appreciation. It appeared that Ichigo wanted to return to favor of making him delirious with pleasure, and he was working at it in all seriousness. "Lemme…oh gods, Ichigo, lemme fuck ya. I need ta be inside ya, Ichi, don' make me come yet, lemme inside, please!" Suddenly remembering Grimmjow was in _heat_, Ichigo drew back and started rooting around in the bedside drawer.

Grimmjow whined, hands pulling at his own hair in an instinctual move (which felt strangely good) and waited impatiently for Ichi to come back, shifting against the sheets with his legs spread and his erection hard and trembling, barbs pulsing, the entire length begging to be touched. Warm slickness was suddenly engulfing his cock entirely, and he threw back his head and roared at the surge of pleasure he hadn't been prepared for. He wasn't even sure what it was, only that it rippled across his cock over and over from base to tip until the world was blurry and the thought he'd lost his mind. Then he heard a slick, wet sound of something moving against something else and he briefly wondered what made it before a hand on his back urged him up and then on top of Ichigo, and he pried open his eyes to look at the other man, his head still spinning, and saw he was flushed and flustered. He didn't understand it until one long leg wrapped around his hips and pulled him closer, grinding their hips together, and the orange-haired male demanded, "Fuck me, Grimmjow." He used two fingers to feel the virgin entrance, testing it, and found it already prepped and slippery- that must've been what the sound was. He slid in to the hilt with a broken moan that sounded almost like a sob it was so good, and had to stop himself there not only to let the boy adjust, but to keep himself from coming immediately. The world was too blurry to actually see and his head was spinning too hard to know up from down, so he closed his eyes and went by touch, focusing completely on Ichigo.

Pressed up against the boy as he was, he could feel the teenager shaking. From pain or pleasure he wasn't sure until he pressed his unmasked cheek against his partner's and felt the tears there. No matter how thorough the prep was, the unfamiliar stretch hurt the first time, particularly with a partner as endowed as Grimmjow, who was about an inch and a half thick and seven inches long (about the same size as Ichigo himself). "Relax Ichi, you have to relax or it'll hurt more, _please_ Ichi," he whispered against the boy's skin, and he was relieved to feel him obey. It would be better once they adjusted to each other and Ichigo relaxing was vital to make sure he didn't tear him apart. He littered kisses and nips across the flesh he could reach, trying to ease the pain a little by distracting him. It seemed to work, because after a few moments Ichigo's other leg came around his waist and the teenager ordered him to move, a command Grimmjow was more than happy to follow. With every slow, testing thrust, the barbs dragged gently and it made Grimmjow moan and groan with every inch he moved, and when those barbs scraped lightly over a little bump inside of Ichigo it made the boy jolt with a high sound that combined a whine and a yowl- the sound seemed to whip Grimmjow's lust higher and he started thrusting in earnest. Still shaking a little, the smaller wrapped his arms around Grimmjow's neck and began to move with him; his whole body started vibrating like he was going to fall apart. When the heel of one of Ichigo's feet started pressing at the Arrancar's own entrance, it was too much and he came with a completely feline yowl, shoving in as far as he could go as his body shuddered and locked. It was so good he blacked out for a minute.

He came to with his body wrapped around Ichigo's, his face buried in the crook of his neck and trembling with aftershocks. Ichigo was stroking his hair soothingly with one hand and kissing his temple, both very intimate and gentle actions. "Feel better?" Grimmjow licked him. "Yeah. Much better. Just one last thing before I can rest for a while without the season takin' me an' leadin' me by the dick again." The orange-haired male yawned, sharp teeth that Grimmjow hadn't known he possessed flashing briefly. "Yeah? What's that?" The panther rolled, bringing the still-hard teenager on top of him with a wide grin. "I need _you_ ta screw _me_ through this mattress." Ichigo laughed and grabbed the lube. "Consider it done."

Series (set in the Pet universe and takes place after 'Run')

Grimmjow had finally found a way to lure his cute little hybrid into the house and get him to stay there- books. The more, the better, and if they were in sequence, that was best. He'd found out quite by accident- Il Forte had recommended he read "The Merchant Of Venice" by Shakespeare, and he'd started it only to become frustrated halfway through with the archaic English because it wasn't his first language anyway. He'd made a disgusted noise and set it on the outdoor table, went in for a beer, and when he came back Ichigo was in his chair, legs curled underneath him and tail wrapped around his ankles as he read. Surprised at the sudden acceptance of his nearness, Grimmjow had cautiously taken the chair next to it (originally meant for Ichigo) and just watched his little pet enjoy the convoluted book. When he finished the thick book in what Grimmjow considered record time, he also deduced that the lizard was a voracious reader and offered Ichigo access to his personal library. He'll never forget how those brown eyes sparkled as green-tinted hands grabbed his own. "You have your own _library_?" And thus began the true pet-owner relationship. In their society, a pet wasn't considered truly yours until it depended on you for something. In most cases the pets were raised from birth to depend on humans for food, clothes, toys, and shelter, so this wasn't typically a problem unless your pet had been 'wild' at one point. Since Ichigo had been wild almost all his life, he didn't rely on any human for _anything_; he could hunt his own food, sniff out his own water, build his own shelter, fashion or steal clothing for himself (if he even _wanted_ clothing, as when he had been wild he'd typically gone naked), and if he wanted to be amused he would amuse himself. Though Grimmjow had bought him, Ichigo had not been 'his'. Now, he needed Grimmjow to get something he wanted- books.

Grimmjow hadn't bothered gloating at the victory, just celebrated with an extra beer and a small smile. He found what types of books Ichigo liked the most and went out and bought as many as he could find, asked what authors he was fond of and bought or ordered every one that had ever been written by them. It was the one thing his hybrid actually _needed_ him for, and he wanted to deliver. Ichigo responded to this blatant desire to please positively, staying inside the house for longer and longer periods of time outside of snatching food Grimmjow had put on the counter or grabbing a new book to carry into his tree-nest. He even started taking over the long plush couch, settling his entire five-feet-nine-inches of length on the cushions while letting his tail hang over the arm. He then started allowing himself to take naps indoors on the couch, first very brief catnaps and later longer, deeper sleeps. He stopped bolting every time Grimmjow came into the room and after a while stopped displaying any more than an acknowledgement of his owner's presence. He still was extra sensitive to his surroundings, however, and particularly to Grimmjow's mood. It was the day he came home after being caught outside in the rain and Ichigo's tail had a towel draped over it as it hung over the back of the couch, waiting for him, that he realized his hybrid accepted him as a friend and possibly as an equal. Since that made him feel suspiciously fuzzy and warm inside, he cooked steak that night. Ichigo had never seen steak before and asked him if it was very good. Grimmjow hadn't been able to resist and offered him a forkful, inviting him to taste for himself.

Ichigo, of course, had been unaware of the romantic aspects of eating from someone else's fork and had indulged the blue-haired executive then and multiple times since, whenever the man cooked a food Ichigo hadn't encountered before. Hell, Grimmjow had started looking up new recipes for the sole reason that when he made something new he got to pretend for a mealtime that Ichigo was his lover and not his just-barely-tamed-pet-and-almost-friend. What could he say? Over the months he'd grown attached and fallen in love (like a goddamn moron) and now he was stuck fantasizing about his beloved. He didn't even dare hope that the lizard would one day indulge him in that, too, so he mostly stuck to fantasies and masturbation. Of course, he never knew that he talked in his sleep, or that even at his age that he could have wet dreams, during which he moaned loudly enough to wake Ichigo out on the couch. He only found that out when he woke up because he'd come, staining the sheets and making them uncomfortably sticky. There was also a green tail wrapped around his dick that had just begun to withdraw and bright brown eyes watching him from the face that was resting the chin on green-white-red crossed arms.

Extremely embarrassed, Grimmjow blushed and started to sit up, an apology already halfway out of his mouth when a clawed hand on his chest pushed him back down. Confused, he turned to question Ichigo but the orange-haired nineteen year old just shook his head and put a finger to his lips to tell Grimmjow to stay silent. The older man obeyed and let his pet do what he wanted. Ichigo moved in close and lay against the bigger male's side, pillowing his head on the muscular chest, tangling their legs together with his tail and wrapping an arm around the human's waist. He also started stroking the blue hair with his free hand and making a soothing rumble deep in his chest that was meant to ease them both into sleep. Still confused but more than happy with this development, Grimmjow nuzzled into Ichigo's orange hair and drifted back to sleep. When he woke up, the lithe male was still with him. Grimmjow asked what he'd done to be so blessed, and Ichigo replied simply, "I heard you calling me from out on the couch. I came to see what it was but you were asleep, so you must've been dreaming. You were so hard it looked like it hurt, so I helped." He blushed again, but since the end result was that his hybrid started cuddling with him every night, and after that the lizard began Courtship Rites, he sure as hell wasn't complaining. Snuggled together on the couch, the executive marveled that all this was started just with a series of books (which he was continuing to provide for his little voracious reader).

Magic

Fighting to close the portal his maniac Master had opened, Grimmjow wrestled viciously with the magic- it had opened a portal to Hell to summon a demon, and it did _not_ want to close until a demon had come through. Abruptly it obeyed and slammed the portal shut, and he knew it had been too easy- something must've come through. "Shit, King…what happened?"

"Judging by those bloodstains, a murder."

"But King, isn't murder Zaraki's domain? We wouldn't have been summoned just for that."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here."

"Ikkaku! Good to see you- what's it been, a month?"

"Something like that- it was justified murder, the man was mad and evil to the core and I've already collected his soul, so I'm done here. Enjoy your stay."

"Enjoy our- hey wait! Damn, he's gone. What was that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Grimmjow grunted as he got off the floor, one hand holding onto the side of his head that was bleeding, "that my Master opened a portal to Hell and summoned you here, and I couldn't close it in time, so you're stuck until either I find a way to release you from the contract or I die. Through the contract was meant for him, since he's dead the contract automatically transferred to me. It didn't help that he hit me with a glass figurine of the deity of Binding and that made me bleed all over the Summoning Circle and Contract Etching." Since his vision was still blacked out, he couldn't see the demons (probably a Lord and his servant) and had no idea one was approaching until there was an "ARRGH!" followed by a heavy thump. Grimmjow felt around until he hit a wall, then leaned back against it and laughed. "So you figured ya'd kill me and free yer Lord, eh? Good try, but Master Aizen was a slick fucker. He wrote it into the contract somewhere that you wouldn't be able to harm the contract holder to escape the contract… and at the moment, that would be me. I haven't looked it over in detail yet but he'd probably also put it in that ya _can't_ be released from the contract so you couldn't threaten him into doing so. Then again, he mighta put in a clause that let him release ya so he could use it to control ya…he was a sick fuck too." Suddenly he heard footsteps and claws were gently combing through his hair. "He injured you?" The Apprentice Mage laughed hoarsely. "Considerin' he was tryin'a kill me, yeah he did. Might even have blinded me."

A pair of lips pressed to his hair and there was murmuring in the demonic tongue, and he felt magic seeping through him and heal his injuries, including his eyes. Blinking to clear them, he looked at the demon Lord to see who had been stuck with him. It was a beautiful young male with bright orange hair and graceful horns, warm honey-golden eyes, and two red curved stripes beneath his left eye that were his only apparent demon markings. The more human-like they were, the more powerful the demon Lord was, and this one had to be a high-ranking demon Lord indeed. You'd never know he wasn't a human noble if you hadn't seen his horns, even with the marks. Some human nobles of the Royal Courts wore make up to have such marks now, as that was apparently what was fashionable. It had something to do with the recent alliance treaty with the Demonic Royalty and showing support, he didn't know and didn't care anymore. Still a little loopy from the healing magic (demon magic had a tendency to do that to humans, no matter how powerful or proficient they were with their own magic) he grinned up at the demon. "Hi. I'm Grimmjow…uhm, do I address you as My Lord or…?" The demon laughed. "I'm supposed to call _you_ that since you're the contract holder, so let's settle for Ichigo. Just don't make me hold to that title, if you don't mind." Grimmjow closed one eye as he chuckled- it was an old reflex that he'd never quite gotten out of the habit of. "The only reason I could figure you'd ever need to call me is that is if there was another Sorcerer around. They consider it good manners to subjugate someone else's demon if they're 'insubordinate'."

There was a snarl from somewhere behind Ichigo and Grimmjow scoffed. "I remind you, servant, that most of the demons summoned into contracts are lesser Lesser Demons and little more than animals. Demons of your Lord's caliber are very, very rarely even targeted by a Summoning and even less rarely are they caught by the spell, which is typically poorly woven. When the typical contracted demon is acting up they're likely to go on a killing spree so it's commonplace for them to be forcibly subjugated by whatever Sorcerer is nearest." An extremely white face suddenly was resting its chin on Ichigo's shoulder, and just so happened to be an exact copy of Ichigo's face but for the coloring. The black sclera surrounded wolf-tawny eyes, marking him as a demonic albino, and even his hair was snow white. "How'd ya know I was a servant?" Grimmjow blinked. "Almost all Demon Lords of the upper noble ranks have servants. If he's the Lord, that means you have to be the servant. You gotta remember that until I killed him, _I_ was my Master's servant. I know about these things. Lemme up, will ya?" Both demons backed up, giving him room, and Grimmjow clambered to his feet only to notice they were paws and his bone-armor was out. So was his tail, claws, and three small forehead horns. "Huh, looks like my parentage is showin' again…musta happened durin' the fight. Explains why I ain't dead yet."

Twisting around to examine his tail more closely, he didn't notice the two demons exchanging a look. "Parentage?" Noticing a hole that went through his middle for the first time and too engrossed in exploring it to look up, his answer was slightly muffled. "My pops was a Lesser Noble Panther Demon from the first level of Hell. He indulged himself while up here on business and nine months later my ma kitted my brother and me. Being half-demon was a blessing for her 'cuz we grew up faster than other kids and she had to get back to work as quickly as possible, so it wasn't long before she was back to whoring while we waited in a back room or hung out with the whores who weren't entertaining that night. Hey, do all half-demons have this hole in 'em or is that a Panther Demon thing?" Two clawed hands, one tan and one deathly white, grabbed his hands and held them away from the hole. "That, Grimmjow…is an Upper Noble Demon Lord 'thing'. I think your father was more powerful a demon than you thought he was." The blue-haired man thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. "It don't matter anyways, I'm still a whore's son an' a streetrat, so if my pa was Upper Noble Demon Lord or not makes no difference. I'm still a half-breed." Reverting to his human form, he went back to the table the Etching lay on so he could study it more closely. He missed Ichigo's sigh.

Examining the runes, not all of which he was familiar with, he traced them with his fingers and particularly the way they were woven together- so tightly he couldn't find any gaps. "Shit. This here is the Rune of Soul Binding…and this the Rune of Penance…the Rune of Absolute Control…Rune of Sacrifice…and all of it woven together with and in the shape of the Rune of Eternity. That son of a bitch not only made it so you two can't be released from the contract…he was gonna make himself immortal, which has transferred…to me. Worse, I think he may have gotten the immortality ritual _right_." Bracing his hands on either side of the Etching, he growled under his breath. He'd never wanted to enslave anyone, but forcing someone into slavery for the rest of eternity was even worse than temporary enslavement would've been. His fingernails dug into the table, and two clawed hands abruptly started massaging his shoulders. When he glanced, it was the servant, and he forced himself to relax enough that the digging fingers didn't hurt. "Ichigo, do you have any pressing business in Hell? High-ranked as you are, I have to assume you actually _do_ something with your time. I have to study the Etching, but since _this_," he pointed to a particularly complicated-looking series of runes, "says you two can't be further than 100 miles from me unless by my personal permission or order, that means you can't go to Hell without me unless tell you to. And _this_ rune," he tapped another part of the carved glass, "restricts me from giving you permission to leave unless I know what you'll be doing."

"Well," Ichigo replied mildly, "If I'm going to be spending much time on earth with you, I'll have to set up people to manage my affairs while I'm away and arrange ways those who manage my lands and estate can contact me if they find it necessary. Do Shiro and I have your…permission…to go and arrange such?" Calling over a Runary with a small burst of Air power, Grimmjow snorted. "Yes, yes, permission granted to take care of whatever business and personal matters you find pressing in Hell before the binding forces you to return to me. If it weren't for these damned requirements written into the spell my bastard of a Master used you wouldn't even have had to ask. Go whenever you wish and return when you want. I never wanted to be anyone's Master but my own, and certainly not of a Noble Demon Lord, so as much freedom as the binding will let me give you, you'll have." Hearing a portal open and then close, he set his elbows to the table, held his head in his hands, and let his eyes roam the intricate runes wearily. "Oh merciful Gods…why give me this mission? What wisdom do you possess that a filthy halfbreed streetrat like me would be entrusted with the mission of fixing all the horrors Aizen has committed?" A moment of silence, just in case the Gods decided to speak (they never did, but it was common courtesy to give them the opportunity anyway) and he chuckled bitterly. "Since ya ain't sharin', I just hope whatever wisdom ya got on yer side ain't faulty."

Watching from the shadows of the room as his Lord and King had commanded, to learn the true nature of the human they were now bound to serve until eternity came and went, Shiro smiled just a little. This human was exactly who he appeared to be…a rare thing with humans and rarer with Mages. Then he frowned- the beautiful creature had called himself a 'filthy halfbreed streetrat' like it was nothing, like degrading himself was commonplace and even expected. He carried the Hollow Hole, rather oddly placed, true, but he had it, and that automatically made him a demon of the King's Court and higher ranked than almost any other demon, with all the rights of a full-blooded demon and probably all the powers of one as well. He'd already proven he could easily hide his demonic appearance beneath human flesh _without_ killing a human and stealing their skin, one of the most difficult of the Demon Magics, and he'd likely been doing it all his life; that made him powerful indeed. When Grimmjow abruptly pushed himself away from the table in a violent motion that spoke of frustration, he realized that as he lost himself in musings the Apprentice Mage had been researching the runes Etched into the glass. Apparently, what he'd discovered was _not good_ and he was letting it show. "Rune of _Dominance Permanence?_ That fuckin'…fuckin' _mil de fiesh kamá¹!_ How dare he? That Rune and its' resulting spell is banned from all but the deepest pits in the lowest level of Hell and even then it's used sparingly!" Grimmjow whirled and slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to send stone chips flying, impressive even for a demon as the wall was magically reinforced, and beat his other fist against it with far less force as he slid down the wall. On his knees, the half-demon rested his forehead against the wall and his voice broke.

"He wan'ed ta make 'em 'is loy-toy² too. L'kik's Hellfire³, 'e wan'ed soul-broke slaves an' 'e planned t'make 'em 'imself," the blue-haired man whispered, slipping into what Shiro suspected was his native dialect of street slang, which the demon couldn't understand for the life of him. But whatever it was, it had to be absolutely horrible to make a man who'd spent most of his life trying to strive beyond his ascribed social status to be so horrified and shocked that he slipped into uncultured dialect. If he'd done it in public it would've resulted in immediate demotion back to the lower ranks, as it would offend the Human Nobles' _delicate sensibilities_. Pompous bastards and fools, the lot of the human Noble Court. Shiro didn't understand them and probably never would- they sneered at anything different from them and considered it lower than they, which Shiro just couldn't comprehend. All different kinds of demons were in the King's Court, from children to attractive ones to ones that were ugly as sin- the part that mattered was _power_. The only difference between their people that mattered was difference in strength, and that was because your survival depended on it. And if someone was different, that did not automatically make them 'lower'- an attractive demon would naturally be more appealing to an attractive demon than an ugly one, but if that ugly bastard could kick the pretty one's ass in a fight, that was probably who was going to marry successfully. That was just how demons worked. It was what made _sense_ to them- but he was going on a tangent and the little Master-Lord was hissing something. He sharpened his ears so as not to miss a syllable.

"_The bastard wanted to strip whoever he ensnared of everything and now I've got to pick up the pieces,"_ the Mage hissed viciously, his teeth gritted so hard Shiro wondered that they hadn't splintered. His body transforming as he went, Grimmjow rose and moved back to the Etching and the table it lay on, using one claw to delicately trace the lines of the runic symbols. "How the fuck am I ever gonna explain-" the half-demon's voice cracked as he cut himself off. "I have to tell them, it's only fair they know. Aizen's depravity knew no bounds and I cannot keep this from them. Aizen, you sick, twisted fucker…why couldn't the spell have died with you? If only I'd gotten up here sooner and closed the portal in time…" he sighed, "but I can do nothing now but try to untwist all the goddamn knots he's tied." The black-furred paws, which were in the exact shape of human hands but for the wickedly lethal claws that tipped them, once more braced against the table. It seemed the position was one he was accustomed to assuming when studying something small intently; though the Etching was in actually quite large for a pane of glass, almost as large as a window pane, it was less wide than Grimmjow's arm span and thus qualified as "small" to him. He probably assumed the same position when studying a book intently because he didn't fully understand the theory explained in it. He was still in that position when King Ichigo returned several hours later, which due to the temporal difference between dimensions, was the equivalent of nearly a month on the Demon Plane.

"Have you learned anything new, Grimmjow?" Tearing his eyes from the runes, the halfbreed looked over his shoulder at the pair that must've just arrived from L'kik-Terram˘ and blinked for the first time in hours. "I- yeah. Y-ya might wanna sit down… ya have no idea how fucked up Aizen was." The demons exchanged a look, then did as advised and sat down. Turning to face them and braced against the table, Grimmjow looked a little green in the face and his mouth was tight. "Aizen…wasn't just mad and power hungry, he was very, very twisted. The runes have told me what he wanted, and it was horrible beyond my imagining. He wished to make himself a God. His plan was to summon the most powerful demon he could and bind them to himself, then force that demon into being his sex slave. Through the slavery, and more specifically through the sex, he would drain their energy and power away from them and take it for his own. As a demon's power replenishes itself when exhausted, he would continue collecting the energy and power until he had elevated himself to the status of an immortal God. The details of this process are horrific and gruesome even for what I imagine the most cruel and hardest of demons would find sickening. Worse…due to the Rune of Dominance Permanence and the Rune of Absolute Control, if I give you an order, you cannot disobey and live. You cannot challenge me outright, even if I give my express permission, you cannot defend yourself from me if I seek to harm you, and if I am not careful you will be forced to submit to me if I make any gesture that could be construed by the spell to be sexual. You also will apparently be forcibly drawn to me if I feel…desire…and if I read it right you'll feel obligated to tend to my needs and wants, even eager, despite what you actually feel or think."

Shiro rose and pried Grimmjow's hands free of the table- he'd left indents in the wood that were a perfect imprint of every joint and fine hair because he was gripping it so hard. "If ya break the table you'll break the Etching and then where will we be?" the servant reminded him quietly as he started massaging the cramped and locked muscles. Grimmjow stayed silent, knowing the albino was right; they needed that damn etching so he knew what all the restrictions were. Then after a moment, he added, "I'll openly admit that if either of you insisted, which the spell would make you do, I find you both attractive enough that I probably wouldn't have the will to say no. You'll have to probably lock and bar yourself in your rooms in L'kik-Teram to not end up in my bed and underneath me should I find myself sexually aroused." Shiro tilted his head at this statement, then commented to his master in the Demon Tongue. The two conversed for a moment or two too rapidly for Grimmjow to follow (he only understood the Demon Tongue if it was spoken somewhat slowly, as it took some effort for his demon blood to translate it into his native Manir) and then he was suddenly being caressed from behind by another set of warm hands. "Who's to say we would mind sharing your bed, underneath you or not?"

"I-Ichigo! I just don't want th-the spell to-"

"We are _demons_ of the highest Noble rank, Grimmjow...no puny human spell can force us to do what we do not already desire, binding contract or no. It can influence us, yes, and for certain restrictions make us deathly ill or possibly kill us, but it cannot _compel_ us to do anything we truly do not want to."

"Mmmm, King, I can feel the spell pull already. I think we arouse him."

"A-ah!"

"Oh yes, Shiro, I think we do. Do you mind magicking his clothes off? My hands are a little busy." Teeth bit at an exposed neck. "Make that sound again, Grimmjow. We liked it."

"_Grrrrowwwl!"_

"Oh fuck…do _that_ one again, Grimmjow-sama, I liked that one even more~"

"Do you think we can bring out the animal in him, my dear servant?"

"Ahhh! I think we already d-did, King, if his biting tendency is an-anything to go by. Oh L'kik˚!

_(Purrpurrpurrpurr)_ A tail flicked, arousal and pleasure practically radiating with every movement. Then someone pounced.

Much, much later (say about three days) Ichigo and Shiro were laid out in bed, totally exhausted, and Grimmjow had just finished cleaning them up…the feline way. Licking the last few drops of somebody's release from where it had splattered his shoulder (there was no way of telling whose it was with all the different positions and combinations they'd tried) Grimmjow finally voiced a question that had been nagging from the back of his sex-hazed mind. "Hey Shiro, why do you always call Ichigo King? Doesn't the Demon King take offense to that?" The two demons, tired as they were, shared an amused look that made Grimmjow suddenly wary. "Of course he doesn't," Ichigo told him gently, "you're looking at him." Grimmjow blinked. "You mean to tell me I just fucked the Demon King and his First Servant fifty ways from Sunsday?" They nodded, and Grimmjow began to grin, his eyes starting to glint. His tail started to flick from side to side, and Ichigo could feel that motion exciting him again. "Well then, I suppose that makes me your unofficial consort for the moment…which gives me full rights, full _responsibility_, to fuck both of you fifty ways from Sunsday…" he kissed along first one lightly sweating neck, then the other, "and Mostday, Truthsday, Wetsday, Thirstday, Firesday, and Sultsday… so I'd better get to it." Both demons groaned as their beautiful halfbreed did exactly that- they'd be so sore after this none of them would be able to leave the bed for a week.

Footnotes:

1. Mil de fiesh kamá: Manir thief-tongue, it is one of the highest insults that can be used; rough translation is "Son of the Devil's whore" and literal translation is "sons of bitches and whores birthed by devils". Devils and Demons are very different classifications and Devils are lower in intelligence but more vicious than even the lowest Lesser Demon, making them the evilest creatures known to Human or Demonkind.

2. Loy-toy: Manir dialect for "love toy", common usage slang for servants or slaves forced to give their Master or employer sexual favors against their will, sometimes called "living play-toys".

3. L'kik's Hellfire: strong oath, as it has been said that all levels of Hell and the palace of hell were forged in the Hellfire of L'kik, making them the holiest and most indestructible structures in either dimension, which is why the Demon Courts are held in the Palace of Hell and criminals are subjected to the lower and deeper levels of Hell for holding.

. ˘L'kik-Terram: the dimension existing alongside the Human Earth and more informally known as the Demon Plane, often called Hell even though Hell is only one small part of the plane.

.˚ L'kik: The King of the Gods in both dimensions and ruler of everything that has ever been created; the holiest of Gods and said to be the creator of all things.

Prayer (Rider universe, sequel to Rider)

It had been a prayer and that was all he had thought it was. How could he have known that the Gods were listening? Still, he was glad they had been, or he would be dead now instead of being carried home by a mountain of a man with scars all over his body. He snuggled deeper into the warm, safe-feeling arms and thanked Zangestu, the forgotten Lord of Horses and God of the Sea, for his saviors. He'd been minding his own business when he heard someone cry for help from the direction of the bull pens. Thinking that perhaps a bull had broken free and gored or trampled someone, he had rushed to help and found nothing save for a one-eyed weasel outside the pens. Uncertain if someone was trapped _inside_ the pens, he went to the fence to go look when suddenly somebody had jumped him from behind. At that point he started running on pure instinct. Roaring his displeasure he threw himself backwards with all the considerable force he could muster and crushed the other body's torso beneath his weight, startling the person and forcing them to let go. Leaping up he whirled with a growl of challenge, his upper lip curling back to bare his teeth, wolf-like. The man was all length and no breadth, built like a rail and about as skinny as one too, but he looked to have some power in his muscles. Snarling, they leapt at each other, Ichigo using every dirty trick and smooth move he'd acquired through his years and the other man apparently doing the same. There would be no holding back here. Ichigo didn't know this man or why he'd jumped him out of seemingly nowhere, but right now he didn't give a shit. Spitting out blood from where he'd bitten the stick-man's arm, he slammed his knees into his opponent's vulnerable stomach as they grappled. Breaking apart, they eyed each other.

_If there's a god of fistfights, ya'd better lend me strength here- this guy gives me chills like my last boyfriend, Byakuya. If yer listenin', help me win._ Then Ichigo curled his lip again and they were back at it, but he was losing like he hadn't lost in ages- it was like this guy healed as fast as he could hurt him and was drawing extra strength from an outside source. They roared, bit, clawed, kicked, generally fought like a pair of lions fighting for territory. He was losing badly, was almost entirely overpowered by the stranger, when suddenly out of nowhere came a massive man, barreling into the stranger and knocking him off with a deadly-sounding snarl that rivaled that of a real wolf. Two others quickly joined the massive male, one that looked albino hissing as he attempted to claw the stick-man's eyes out and a blue-haired man that roared as he raked vicious nails down a lily-white throat and chest. All seemed to particularly hate the other stranger, and under their combined assault he wailed, ripped free, and fled, the three chasing him to the edge of the property and warning him not to return if he wanted to keep his life. Then they returned to Ichigo, all of them fussing over him and seeming to be extremely concerned despite being strangers to him. Despite bleeding all over the place and aching like he'd been trampled by a bull, he insisted he was fine and started to get up only to have his right leg collapse underneath him. This resulted in him being carried in the arms of the biggest man towards the ranch doctor's office while the other two fussed over him like mother hens.

Settling down into the big stranger's hold more comfortably, he closed his eyes and burrowed into his chest, mumbling another prayer to a god he couldn't even name that was thanks for the help. Slipping into unconsciousness already, he almost missed the voice that rumbled through the chest he lay against. "Yer welcome." The last thing he felt before passing out was someone lovingly tucking his own arm around him and nuzzling his hair.

Promise (Romance Universe, set after 'Fight')

Yawning like a lion satisfied with his lot, or so Jackal always called his huge, self-satisfied yawns, Ichigo cat-stretched in bed. Jackal rose and did the same beside him, the pair purring at each other in what had become their morning ritual. Getting out of bed, Ichigo changed into clean boxers and got dressed, reminding his protesting teenager that they had made plans for the day when the younger whined about the early hour (even though it was almost eleven in the morning). At the mention of their plans to go to the concert of the teen's favorite band, called "Pantera", the blue-haired boy jumped into his routine. Ichigo couldn't help laughing at him. As he watched his charge fairly dance around the room, he neglected to mention what he had realized the first time Jackal had come to him, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, the single "Pantera" cd in his hand and a look of absolute awe on his face. Pantera had been the name of a cat, and later a car (jaguar, of course) owned by a man with cotton-candy-blue hair that went by the name of Grimmjow Jaggerjack. The boy would find out for himself later. They dressed for the occasion- silver spikes and leather, a little gel in their hair, makeup markings and lipstick. Then it was time and after a drive that was a blur they were _there_, and after only moments the concert was happening and when Jackal saw the blue hair of the lead singer and guitarist he just stared with his mouth open and Ichigo watched from the bar with a smile hidden behind his glass.

It was worth the pain of seeing Grimmjow again to see that expression on his son's face as he realized exactly _who_ his favorite singer was. Still, his heart ached at seeing his former lover since he'd never quite managed to fall out of love with him. He was dying slowly inside, ripping his heart apart, and they weren't even halfway through the show yet. It was oh-so-tempting to take a few shots of tequila, his liquid courage, but chances were if he did he'd wake up in the bed in Grimmjow's bus and have to make a quick getaway. He already had enough regrets; he didn't want to add to them 'slept with the ex I'm still in love with but will never have again'. Maybe the whiskey- no, no, whiskey always made him do crazy shit in public so he'd do something like dance on the bar, catching Grimmjow eye, and it would be the same problem as with the tequila. He didn't want to have regrets _and_ embarrass himself either. Which liquor was it that made him suitably hazy but didn't jack him up again? He knew there was one, if he could just remember what it was- oh right, it was rum! Spiced rum always made him warm inside and sleepy so it didn't jack him up like other liquors but it still got him drunk. He ordered some Captain Morgan on the rocks and sipped it cautiously as he watched his boy worship his biological father for his musical ability along with the rest of the rioting crowd. It was good, so god, to see him acting like a normal teenager, hard at work worshipping his music idol.

True to his nature and his father, Jackal created more than a small riot- he nearly caused a stampede and he managed to damage or destroy almost two thousand dollars worth of equipment. As he was being escorted out by security, the band's attention was drawn to him and the racket he was making. To Grimmjow's surprise, he witnessed a head of extremely _orange_ hair fighting through the crowd to reach the blue-haired youth. Then, he heard it- above the crowd, above the music, above the pounding of his own heart in his ears; "Unhand my son this goddamn instant! Jackal Kurosaki, what in the fucking hell do you think you're doing? Let go of that security guard or so help me-" The boy immediately settled, hastening to soothe his riled father. "Shit, shit, sorry pops, I didn't mean to, I promise! C'mon, leggo, ya don't know how scary Ichigo Kurosaki can be when ya fuck with me." Watching Ichigo, _his Ichigo_, sling the boy (who looked almost exactly like a younger Grimmjow minus the scars) over his shoulder and carry him off made his knees go weak and his blood boil. That ought to be _him_ being carried off like a maiden to be ravaged on that strong shoulder; it _would've_ been him if he hadn't been such a stupid prick. Knowing he wouldn't be able to follow after them for another hour at least, he growled and watched Ichigo walk out of his life for a second time. He prayed to God there'd never be a third, because this time he was smart enough to chase after him.

In the car, and with Jackal driving because Ichigo was still rather buzzed, they were finally coming down off their adrenaline highs enough that Jackal gave his old man a few glancing looks. "Oi, pops…you knew, didn't ya?" The doctor nodded solemnly, fighting not to giggle. It was a serious moment and serious moments weren't for giggling. "Of course. He named all his favourite things Pantera, y'know. I couldn't have missed it if I tried." Jackal swallowed hard, his hands flexing on the wheel. "Then why did ya let me talk ya inta comin'? I know it musta hurt ya ta come and see him again- ya still call fer him in yer sleep on the bad nights." The older waved his hand dismissively. "Only on the bad ones, and that's irrelevant. I promised myself and you I'd give you the best adolescence I could, with all the normal teenager things, and this is one of them. I don't break my promises." Jackal couldn't help his frown. "Well then try not to hurt yerself doin' it anymore, okay, Dad?" Ichigo laughed, deep and from the gut. "Sure, Jack, I'll try. I promise."


	6. Author Omake

Drabble Challenge Omake

Sitting cross-legged in a chair, her laptop perched on her knees, a short young woman with dark blond hair let her hand slither underneath her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose; she had a headache pounding in her left temple and it was acting up again. Moving the hand pinching the bridge of her nose back to the keyboard, he raised her left hand and pressed the pad off her thumb into her temple _hard_ in order to convince the threatening migraine that it did _not_ want to stop in for a visit or she would find a way to make it very sorry for doing so. After successfully scaring off the migraine, she found her jaw aching as she yawned wide enough to make it crack- the heavy chewing muscles that were anchored to her skull right above the temples were worn out and sore from a variety of tough foods she'd eaten the day previously and the stretch from her yawn wasn't helping. It even hurt bad enough she had eschewed her addiction to chewing gum and she'd been forced to rely on a secondary addiction- her beloved _coffee_. Unfortunately the "good stuff" she loved was rather expensive and thus rationed, and since they were out at the moment and had just made the last pot, she had been allowed only one cup of the delicious brew. One _small_ cup, that if measured would be a _half-cup_, rather than her usual massive, three-and-a-half-cup mug. Disappointed at her misfortune, she sipped her lonely little cup and pouted. Her assorted aches and irritations were making it difficult to be creative, and she wanted to stuff all this into one prompt rather than stretching it out over several; she had too many multi-part stories as it was, and this wasn't supposed to get nearly this out of hand anyway, and besides- _GGGGG__**RRRRROOOOOOWWLLLLLL!**_ Uh, and besides, she was apparently rather hungry. Noting the time to be eleven thirty p.m. the young authoress frowned as she tried to think of what would tide her over until she went to bed either around three or when her laptop battery ran out (she hadn't bothered to connect the cord because she hadn't planned to get this deep into her writing) but wouldn't be something she wanted to eat for breakfast.

In an all-too-practiced move, her left hand tapped the "Ctrl" and "S" keys simultaneously with thumb and forefinger to save her work. The move was so practiced and natural to her now for one reason- during the school year, she'd had a laptop failure and lost two chapters of notes from all her classes. Now, it was all stored on her USB drive (THE PRECIOUS, as she called it, and insisted that the title was entirely in capitals because it was just that important) and she saved again and again and again throughout her writing. She saved what must've been dozens of times over the course of each work just in case she ran into one of those times when her laptop went dead and wouldn't be able to retrieve the data she'd had unsaved. Setting her laptop on the small table he used for a footstool if her legs fell asleep but she still wanted room for the machine, she rose from the just-barely-soft-enough-to-be-called-plush chair and stretched, her spine crackling like crumpled tinfoil as she arched inward and twisted her hands together so she could force the shoulder joint back when she stretched them behind her head toward the wall. Satisfied with her little symphony, she straightened out her billowing attire (what she preferred around the house, particularly during the recent hot weather) and made for the kitchen. Her stomach roared, literally _roared_ at her again, and she slapped a hand to it in a wordless order to shut up as she rummaged in the cupboard, emerging victorious when she found she still had a microwave Easy Mac stored there. They made a perfect late-night snack, she found. Instant ramen was also always an option, but it sat heavy on her stomach and when she ate heavy things too close to bedtime it had unpleasant effects in the morning.

Yawning again, she did not fail to notice that after a moment the padding of soft paws sounded on the linoleum and a loud meow made her look down to see Gizmo, the cat adopted from a local animal shelter. Crouching and balancing on the balls of her feet (not to mention cracking both knees and ankles), she scratched the feline's ears gently. "Hey baby," she purred rustily, her voice gravelly and hoarse after prolonged silence, "how's my pretty kitty doin' this mornin'?" She knew it wasn't technically morning yet, she was more than just a night owl- her aunt called both the young authoress and her mother "The Vampires". As far as she was concerned, eleven or twelve at night _was_ her morning. At least, for the summer. Shaking off the thought of her eventual but not impending return to college, she removed the finished macaroni from the microwave and stirred in the powdered cheese. Hearing again the patter of soft paw pads on the linoleum, she smiled as she turned to look up at her _other_ cat, who entered with all his hair fluffed out and his tail thrashing. "What's got you so worked up, Grimmjow?" The Espada, in his released form at the moment, took the brush his Authoress conjured out of seemingly nowhere and started trying to wrestle his blue mane into lying semi-flat again. He hated when his hair reacted like his fur would in full panther form. "Remember how we agreed I'd share yer Aunt's bed since you live on th'couch an' Ichi sure as hell ain't sharin' yer mom's bed when she aint usin' it?" The Authoress nodded- she remembered trying to arrange everybody's sleeping space when it was already rather limited (and she was _not_ going to give up her couch and she sure as hell wouldn't _share_ it; the thing was so old it would probably break from the combined weight). "Well," the Arrancar continued, "ya know how she likes ta leave the TV on so sudden noise don't wake her in th'mornin'? The channel she was on just ran their monthly emergency warnin' test and it startled us both outta a dead sleep. Now I can't seem ta calm down thanks ta the adrenaline jolt."

Silver nodded sagely, having had a more than a few rude awakenings of her own.

_**GET UP!**_

_Come quick, the chair's on fire and you gotta help me get it out of here!_

_That was your father- he's been hurt and he thinks he might need to go to the hospital._

Shaking the memories off, she instead used one hand to absently pet Grimmjow's teal ears soothingly. She knew what it was to wake up and be far, _far_ too wired to go back to sleep that day. Purring under her hand, the Pantera-released-form Grimmjow followed her back into the living room and sat on the floor in front of her chair so he could prop his chin on her knee. While very much a domesticated gesture, it was one he had learned did nothing to lessen his masculinity or the fact that he was an untamed beast in the Authoress' eyes. He knew very well that she had appointed herself his 'owner' until she was finished with him, which would be a long time coming if Bakura was anyone to go by, but he also knew she curbed his more destructive tendencies only because she had no love for repairing her own house. Her physical house, not the mansion Silva and the other Pets inhabited, which was where they were at the moment. Between spooning bites of her food into her mouth, she stroked his head and massaged the base of his ears, which he found soothing enough his hair started to flatten and his tail stilled (apart from the occasional tail-tip flick of satisfaction). Then of course, he heard her set down the plastic container and the metal spoon rattled in the cup, the sound making him wince. One ear twitched forward at hearing am odd sort of 'clik' that was too soft to be the tapping of nails on wood and too quiet to be the snap of a joint. She must've returned to typing, judging by the rapid-fire, nonstop sound punctuated by the 'ch-chk' of the space bar. Whenever she stopped to think, her right hand would return to Grimmjow's mane, scratching absently and petting gently. His eyes half-lidded, he purred for her.

She scratched more firmly, showing she appreciated that Grimmjow showed his pleasure even if it was in such a tame-cat way (which he disliked doing just on principle) and sat back a little with a sigh. "Only five minutes left before I run out of power. Looks like I gotta shut down." More clicks, this time the sharp sound of the built-in mouse, and after a moment it powered down. He could tell because the fans that kept the unit cool enough to prevent spontaneous combustion at last stopped whirring. Shutting the top and letting it latch closed, she used her foot to push the little table away and gave one of the deep sighs that meant she was contemplating something she'd written. Turning his cerulean gaze back up to her face, he raised an eyebrow to invite her to speak. "Well, I want to finish chapter six of ATRHATWT, but I'm sort of stuck in the middle. I'm going to devote maybe a week to it after I finish prompt 50. But 'Magic' is running away with me like these stories tend to do, and it might be a while before I even get _that_ done." She scowled and Grimmjow chuckled. "The one with Demon Lord Ichi, right?" She nodded and he nuzzled her knee. "You like the image in your head, and the version of me in that one ain't found out Ichigo's the Demon King yet, so I'm not surprised it's runnin' off with ya." "Well I'd rather she finish that one," came a grumpy, half-sleep voice from behind them, "because I'd like to stop being a Demon King sometime soon. The horns make it rather hard to pull a shirt over my head so I've been wearing the same button-up shirt for almost a week. Can't I borrow one of your Dad's shirts, Silver? Please?" Silver chuckled. "No."

Gesturing Ichigo to kneel at her other side, which he did, she stroked his horns and watched him shiver beneath the touch. "I'm planning to finish that one after I wake up, so you don't have to put up with it for too much longer. Hey, how do you two feel about a merman theme in one or another of these? Y'know one of my favorite artists on Deviantart, Blackstorm? Storm did a drawing of Catfish!Grimmjow and now the idea won't leave me alone; he looked amazing." The two looked at each other over her knees and then Grimmjow asked hesitantly, "Who did you plan to make the merman?" She blinked. "Both of you, of course. I couldn't use the prompt I'm thinking of if it wasn't both…unless you would prefer just one?" Grimmjow tilted his head. "Well, since you're making 'Prayer' part of the 'Rider' series, I'll be a horse for a while. I wouldn't mind changing into a merman sometime after that." Silver nodded. "I started these prompts to try and exorcize some of the hundreds of ideas out of my brain, but the problem is when I don't have one ready for the prompt a dozen new ones crop up, so I've got almost as many ideas bouncing around my skull as I did when I started. In fact, a new one involving you and I and me teaching you about 'human dominance games' has been playing out in my head for almost three days, Grimmjow. If it stays much longer, I'll have to write it 'cuz it won't be going away." He winced- he'd had the misfortune of being thrown inside her mind once, and he knew the furious whirlwind of ideas and half-formed stories resided at the center of her being, the stronger ones playing in front of her eyes like a movie. If any idea stayed longer than five days, it would stick around until she wrote the damn thing. Ichigo looked thoughtful, then asked, "What about asking your readers for suggestions?" Behind her glasses, the green eyes glinted in the low lighting curiously. "Oh?"

He fidgeted; his Master's gaze was incredibly strong and she got that hungry look sometimes when she was coming up with something particularly intense for him and Grimmjow to act out. "Well, it would keep _you_ from coming up with more ideas than you can stand," he said nervously, "and it might prompt more reviews. Plus, by making it interactive, you might even be able to net yourself more readers." The authoress twirled a lock of hair through the fingers of her left hand and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. "Okay Ichigo, sounds like an idea. I'll post an Omake after I post number fifty so they know it might take a little longer than usual for their next ten prompts and so they know I'm taking suggestions for the next week after I post. I wouldn't be able to promise I'd do them all, because some things I'm just no good at writing, and some things I can't make myself write- like a detailed rape scene, I just couldn't bring myself to write that if someone asked. I'm too much of a hopeless romantic to do that. Blood, violence, war, torture; I'm _good_ at those, detailed with them, but non-con and rape is shit I can't write in detail. Sexual violence, if enjoyed by both sides, I could maybe manage, though it probably would be C or B-ranked writing at best. Oh, that reminds me, as long as we're on the subject of sex, I finally granted you two your smut scene! Prompt 47- 'Season'. Grimmjow finally remembered to keep his mouth shut long enough for me to write it in full. Anyway, I made both of your dicks roughly the same size- seven inches long, an inch and a half thick. I'm trying to make you impressive, but not physically impossible in objective reality. Is that size reasonable?" Neither man was surprised at the question- it was one of her more reasonable queries in the time they'd known her. She was adamant on the details.

Ichigo answered first. "Well, you have to remember I'm fifteen. That's pretty big for someone my age, and I still have quite a bit of growing to do. I'd estimate I'd end up eight and a half to nine inches long when full grown in that case, though still around that thickness. I'm a scrawny guy, I'm not going to be all that thick _anywhere_ on my body." "You're lean and wiry, not scrawny or lanky," she corrected him, as she often did, "scrawny people haven't any muscle and you've got plenty, honey." Grimmjow purred his agreement and then answered for himself. "I'm pretty broad so I'd probably be closer to an inch and three quarters in thickness, though eight or eight and a half inches is closer to a realistic length for that sort of girth. I'm taller than Ichigo, and to be proportionate my dick would be a little longer as well." She scowled. "I'm not giving you an eleven inch cock, Grimmjow. I'm trying to make it physically _possible_, goddamn it." Both men rolled their eyes- it was one of her pet peeves when an author or authoress gave the characters genitals that were physically impossible with their body structures and horrible sex scenes where they successfully used those impossible genitals to their satisfaction. One of the ones she's ranted about most spectacularly was one where the men had foot-and-a-half and two-foot long cocks and came in quarts and gallons. She had also ranted just the other day for almost an hour about Grimmjow being unable to have an eleven-inch cock because he just wasn't that goddamn tall and his hakama didn't have that big of a crotch. She'd also been making that argument naked, so it had been an entertaining morning.

Shooing the men off of her, Silver got up and stretched a little. "I'll ask my readers to comment on that too. Alright, everyone, let's get to bed. If the omens are right, we'll have a busy day tomorrow." The boys looked at each other, then gulped. Whatever "the omens" were, she usually read them right. The only trouble was, when she said _they_ had a busy day ahead, it usually meant she'd be writing and they'd be making use of the bed that was conveniently placed in the basement until they passed out from soreness and exhaustion. They gave each other a fond nuzzle and hurried to their respective sleeping places. Hopefully things would quiet down while she held her little contest and they could get some rest after she worked them hard tomorrow. Settling down to sleep on her couch, Silver hummed thoughtfully as she planned the next day. "Perhaps I'll extend it to however long it takes me to put up the next ten drabbles…"


	7. Numbers 51 to 60

51. Tells

Ichigo had tells. Many, many tells- he would never have won a poker game if he played, though thankfully he didn't. His eyebrow twitched when he was pissed, his pupils shrank when he was scared, surprised, or in pain, his hair had a tendency to bristle, when he got nervous or excited he couldn't keep his damn hands still, and he was always, _always_ loud when he was emotional. It took only a glance to know his mood if you knew him for any length of time, even around the perpetual scowl he wore. At the moment, however, he was absolutely blank. Beaten, bleeding, and physically broken, Ichigo had been brought in by Barragan and forced to his knees before Aizen and the other Espada, but his face betrayed nothing. His eyes said nothing, the pupils dilated in the low light despite the incredible pain he had to be in, and something in Grimmjow raged _THIS IS NOT KUROSAKI! IT CANNOT BE!_ but his nose and his mouth told him it was. The scent filtering into his open mouth was as unmistakable as his own; he knew the smell of Kurosaki, the taste/smell of his skin and his blood, and _that_ was _him_. Where had his tells gone? Who had painted his porcelain mask to take the place of Kurosaki's face? The boy was silent and emotionless when questioned, not flinching when hit for refusing to answer, but that only lasted for half an hour. Aizen, having become impatient, descended from his throne to threaten the teenager himself. He had overestimated his own power, taking Kurosaki's silence and stillness as submission and surrender, and was so arrogant as to kneel down to the prisoner's level and touch him. That was his mistake, because in a flash of orange movement suddenly Aizen lay dead on the floor, eyes wide with surprise and his body mangled beyond belief, Kurosaki spitting out bone and gristle and blood as his bonds came undone and he rose to his feet. Wiping his mouth with the back of one hollow-armored arm (the white armor had come from seemingly nowhere, extending from toe to knee and elbow to fingertip, not including the tail) he chuckled. "Pride goeth before a fall."

Barragan rose, probably to try and declare himself King now that Aizen was dead, and abruptly he joined Aizen on the floor in pieces, blood showering those seated as Kurosaki calmly snapped his tail to clean the thick redness from it. Then he spoke. "Grimmjow, I gotta thank ya. If it hadn't been fer ya makin' King call on me in battle so damn much I prolly woulda never managed ta convince him that now he's proved he's the King an' I'm the Horse I'll willin'ly serve 'im. We came up wit' this plan t'gether an' since we all know he can't hide his emotions fer shit we agreed I'd be the star o' this mission. We knew it'd be a suicide mission from th'start…but we plan on takin' a good half o' ya with us." The Espada sat stock-still, stunned, but after a few moments Grimmjow rose. He took slow, measured steps as he walked around the table to Ichigo, ignoring several raised eyebrows, and once before the Soul Reaper he folded gracefully to one knee, one hand on the floor to steady him and the other on the knee that nearly touched his chin. "My liege." There was a tense moment of silence, and though Grimmjow couldn't see it, Ichigo's eyes flashed from tawny gold irises to honey ones, orange brows drawing together in confusion as pupils shrank. The teen put a hand to the teal hair to make sure he wasn't imaging things. "Grimmjow?" Knowing it was now Kurosaki and not the other, the panther reached up to take Ichigo's right hand. "You have soundly defeated and executed my previous ruler in fair combat, and I found him an unworthy King, and so I acknowledge you as my new Monarch and will follow you forever. Long may you live." From the table came a half-sleep "Seconded." followed quickly by several "Witnessed and accepted." and someone rumbling "Long live King Kurosaki."

The teen was startled and confused, and he showed it. "Uh…okay? What does this… mean? On the whole, that is. I get the gist of it." Grimmjow bent forward and kissed the tanned hand he held, tongue flicking out just a tiny bit to get a taste of that wonderfully human skin and the power that thrummed audibly over and beneath it. "It means I am your man, now until death and beyond, and the others accept you as my choice and our King." Ichigo blinked and tugged on the hands holding his. "Then rise- I'll have no man of mine bow to me. I'm not nearly arrogant enough for that." Grimmjow had to fight the urge to purr at that statement and then realized he didn't _have_ to suppress such urges because Kurosaki wouldn't consider it a weakness, wouldn't look down on him for it, and then burst out purring so loud and hard his body shook. He nuzzled the hand he was still holding at the same time, and after only a second or two he heard a breath-like chuckle. "Looks like I said the right thing. Good, I don't want to piss you off." Letting his gaze rise to meet his King's, the blue-haired Arrancar couldn't help flushing with pleasure when Ichigo continued, "The last thing any King needs is a pissed off Guardsman, and I'm hoping that you'll willingly be my protector for many more long years to come." Nearly a century of Ichigo's Benevolent and Beloved rule later, during one of the open courts that were held so the lesser hollows could interact with their King (a practice that had fallen into great disfavor during the time of Hathsgar the Hungry, who tended to eat all the hollows that had attended) Grimmjow voiced a question that had been bothering him for about fifty or sixty years. "M'lord, how did you know that Aizen had dropped his guard? None of us Espada could tell for the life of us." Ichigo smiled evilly.

"He had a 'tell'."

Growl

The first time he'd heard it, he had flattened himself to the sand and froze there, hoping against hope that the being that made it would overlook him as inconsequential and pass him by. That was the growl of something Big and Bad and Hungry on the prowl and he was still a lower-class adjucas; something that Big and Strong would need something strong to eat, so there was a fair chance he could escape notice if he stayed quiet and still. The scent of his own fear was strong in his nostrils, blotting out any other scents, and with the sands ever-shifting to cover the noise of footsteps he had no way to tell if the threat was getting closer or farther away until he heard another growl, louder, closer, making his ears twitch and vibrate as he pressed down further into the sand. He was taken by surprise when the back of a claw trailed down his side in a firm stroke that made him jump to the other side from surprise. An amused rumble from the direction the touch had come from made him look, and there was a lizard-type Vasto Lorde there, his long, thick tail sweeping lazily with his amusement as he continued to rumble. He approached Grimmjow again, his long mane of orange hair swaying in the ever-present wind, and the panther pressed himself further into the sand, stifling a whine. The reiatsu was playful, mostly, with the hunger only the constant undertone they all had, and he would only anger the stronger Hollow if he resisted him by trying to run. The lithe Lorde draped himself over Grimmjow's still form, nuzzling and cuddling against him lovingly. Grimmjow, on the other paw, was confused as hell. This behavior didn't fit a lizard- he was acting like a bitch in heat when she was trying to get herself fucked. Lizards didn't have a heat…right?

A low purr from the Vasto Lorde struck a chord in him, and he purred back, pawing gently at one of the arms draped around him. The thick, scaly tail slammed into the sand repeatedly and rapidly, a wagging motion that expressed pleasure. Grimmjow answered with happy flicks of his own tail, rubbing his body against the one above him in an irresistible answer to the call of mating. A higher-ranking male of great beauty makes an offer such as this, what answer can be given but yes? The mating was messy and quick, but nearly painless and passionate in a way that was more than rare among emotionless Hollows. It was absolutely wonderful and they parted ways afterward. Grimmjow wouldn't know until later, when scenting the area thoroughly to imprint the lizard's scent on his nose so he wouldn't forget it, that he found out that particular mating session had come at the exact perfect moment; if that particular Vasto Lorde hadn't chosen him to sate his heat with right at that moment, he would've been eaten by a low-level Vasto Lorde that, after the coupling, was eaten promptly by the orange-haired male that had just paired with him.

The second time he heard that growl, his mouth had opened to catch the scent and- yes, the lizard Vasto Lorde was in heat again! Grimmjow rumbled and whined, heard his previous partner call quietly and his tail thump the sand, and presented, purring loudly. Ass in the air, tail lifted, chin on his paws so he didn't get his face shoved in the sand, he was more than pleased when an orange mane flickered at the edge of his vision and white, clawed front legs braced against the sand from over his shoulders. This coupling was even better than the last, completely painless and still passionate, but this session lasted much longer and through several orgasms for both males- the more powerful hollow must've been caught earlier in his heat this time to result in a longer sex drive. Even if that wasn't the case, Grimmjow certainly wasn't complaining.

The third time was the precursor to many, many more. He heard the now-familiar growl, but he couldn't smell any heat-scent, only lizard and sand and interest. Thinking the much more powerful male wouldn't be interested him outside of his heats(and oddly disappointed at the thought), he pressed his body down into the sand to wait for the Lorde to pass him by. It didn't happen. A thick, scaly tail twined with his own and a long, lean body rubbed against his side, the rusty-sounding growl of a lizard's purr ringing through the air. "Mine. _Mi_ _Pantera_." Grimmjow's entire body throbbed hard at that phrase, that one word- _Panther King._ "Yours. _Soy tu Pantera_…" he hesitated slightly, then changed his tone slightly to be questioning as he ran a paw over the Vasto Lorde's shoulders. "Mine?" The lizard licked his cheek and purred again, sounding like a rusted-out engine. "_Si. Soy tu _Ichigo. _Tu_ One Protector. Mate." Grimmjow melted- _mate_ was always and forever, soul-to-soul, and this beautiful, powerful male wanted _him_. He rubbed against his mate a little harder, purred, and presented. This coupling was different- his mind unclouded by the heat-lust, Ichigo took the time to explore and learn the contours and planes of the body of his beloved, and he kick-started the second round by nudging Grimmjow back up to a standing position before turning around and presenting himself. The panther had barely been able to believe his eyes- a more powerful hollow, one that could kill and devour him with little trouble anytime he wanted, was offering _submission_. It was flat-out mind-boggling. Grimmjow had never found domination sweeter in his life than that time.

Grimmjow did eventually evolve into a Vasto Lorde, just like his mate, and over the decade or so that it took him to achieve that rank, he became very, _very_ familiar with all of Ichigo's different growls- his 'hungry' growl, his 'angry' growl, his 'lusty' growl and his 'hurting' growl. Of all the growls he learned, the one he liked best wasn't the 'heat' growl he'd heard the first time he met his lizard mate- in fact, it almost wasn't a growl at all. His favorite was the 'purr' growl, because he only ever heard it when Ichigo was thinking about how much he loved his larger mate and was content with their life together.

(Note: My Spanish was only two years taken in High School over two years ago so I never got far and can't _quite_ recall the specifics of verb-noun order and context, so if I totally butchered the very limited Spanish I used please forgive me for I know not how else to use it. Feel free to correct me and my failings and if any of my readers know French there's a long and lengthy discussion I'd like to have with you for use in another story because I know approximately seven words in French- 'yes', 'no', 'please', 'thank you', a swear word, 'bathroom', and 'nose'. That of course is not counting what I've read in other fics (the accuracy of which is questionable) and the name of food- I'm a Foodie, I know words for different foods in almost any language. ANYWAY, to use French in a story- Jeagerjaques is very, very French after all- I am going to need lots of help and free translators on Google don't work very well for conversations.)

Life

Ichigo's human life, once he found out about it, absolutely fascinated Grimmjow. He always wanted to know more. When Ichigo found out Grimmjow was stalking him and why, he'd laughed and proceeded to teach the Arrancar as much about life as he wanted to know. It could honestly be said that Grimmjow now knew a hell of a lot more about the human world than any Soul Reaper, and his intense curiosity never seemed to wane so he was constantly learning. Then the man had heard the phrase "live life, laugh loud, love long," and right now he was demanding Ichigo teach him about the "love long" part because they'd already covered the other two. However, it was difficult because he couldn't seem to understand the concept of "love" in the first place and Ichigo was trying to explain the difference between emotional and physical love all at the same time. The teen wound up turning him onto porn for the physical, and his sisters' romance novels for the emotional. The day Grimmjow came into his room, pinned him to his bed, and demanded a demonstration of this "love" shit, he realized this might not have been the best idea. He told the man it wasn't that simple, that it was part of the living experience that you just had to be _alive_ to fully understand, and Grimmjow had scowled and nipped at his throat in reprimand. "I let you get away wit' that excuse when ya didn't wanna explain ta me before, but it ain't gonna work this time. Now show me what the fuck human 'love' is!" Ichigo, whose blush was creeping down his neck to his collarbone already, shook his head. "I'm serious, it's a human thing! You have to be alive to really get it- even Soul Reapers who claim to 'love' don't understand 'love' between humans; the love in the living world. It's something unique to us living humans." Grimmjow nipped him again. "You will find a way to make this up to me, Kurosaki. You'd better teach me to live properly."

Death (WARNING: Violence, execution, and dark themes ahoy!)

His death came entirely unexpected to everyone other than himself. He'd noted the increased danger of leaving his apartment recently, how more of the gang men that hated him were carrying actual weapons these days. He'd even taken to carrying a katana. On the day he died, they had attacked full force, tied his arms behind his back once he'd been disarmed and beaten, forced him to his knees, put a gun to the nape of his neck and nearly decapitated him with one shot. He took small comfort in taking all of them with him, dragging their souls out by force once he was dead and sending them on to Soul Society or Hell- he was particularly gratified to see the man who pulled the trigger on him get sucked into the gates of Hell kicking and screaming. Slinging his sword over his shoulder, he fingered the five or six short links that were all the Soul Chain he had. It promptly bit him. Nursing the bite, he ignored the staggering pain of the end link devouring itself and wandered upward- he could feel some Espada coming through a nearby dimensional rip and he may as well go out fighting. The demon in his consciousness whispered to him for once rather than screaming and he let himself listen to it. _**King…you mean to die?**_ Ichigo laughed, though it was slightly hysterical and rang through the air eerily. _No, but when the final link is eaten, you'll take over because we'll be a hollow and then either one of the Captains comes to kill us or Aizen gets ahold of us, so my time will be over and I'll have nothing but whatever battle you let me taste. So __I__ mean to go out with a bang._ When he smiled at the enemy, none other than Grimmjow himself, it was all teeth and the canines were extra long and sharp. "Good to see you, Grimmjow. Nobody I'd rather die fighting than you!" Grimmjow was visibly startled, but had no time to question before he was defending himself from furious, desperate strikes. The strikes harried and pressed him, a tactic used by men at the end of their strength, and he was obviously confused by its' use at the very start of a battle. In the middle of pressing his advantage, the teen shuddered, stumbled, and stopped, clutching his chest with a whine.

Drawing back, he looked down at the last link in his chain and then back up at Grimmjow, a sad almost-smile curling the corner of his mouth. "Sorry…looks like I'm outta time and won't go out fighting you after all. I was hoping you'd have killed me by now." Grimmjow growled- he was _not_ something to be used so the boy could commit suicide- but then the orange-haired man's head slammed back with a Hollow's first scream of agony. A hole appeared in his chest where his soul chain had been, and the white spiritual energy of a Hollow mask seeped from his eyes and mouth to start taking over his face. After only a few minutes of this screaming, agonizing process, the hollow that once was Ichigo Kurosaki stood before the Arrancar, who had been frozen in horror to watch this happen to his favorite rival and prey. The hollow flexed his hands- err, claws- and shook out his mane, then looked around. **"I dunno why King's so intent on defendin' this itty-bitty town…it's so borin' here…Ya'd think he'd be okay wit' just defendin' our lil' family, bu' no, he protects **_**everybody**_**…Oh well. I'll do what King wanted anyways. I owe 'im tha' much at least, considerin' his human body dyin' forced me onta th'throne without givin' 'im a fair chance t'fight fer it. M'sorry, Grimmjow, bu' tha' means ya gotta die."** Grimmjow, alarmed at this declaration, held his hands up, palms out, in a 'hold up' motion. "Wait a sec, kid, I ain't got nothin' against ya an' don't intend on harmin' yer…'king's'…family. I ain't interested in the town either, just Ichigo. Now what's this about him dyin'?" The hollow stared at him, then laughed.

"**King was human, ya nit-wit, an' somebody killed 'im. Ichigo Kurosaki, as you know my King, is **_**dead**_**."** Hearing this, Grimmjow crumbled and ceased to fight. He would later be seen accompanying the soul formerly known as Ichigo Kurosaki into Hueco Mundo, and apparently protecting the hollow soul on the way. The soul would never be heard of or seen again until thousands of years later, when all who had known "Ichigo" were long gone and a Vasto Lorde hollow who demanded to be called "Horse" ruled both spiritual dimensions, his blue-haired consort the only one who knew why he wanted to be called Horse and never, _ever_ tolerated anyone calling him "king".

Spartan

Aizen didn't exactly provide a 'room'. He provided 'accommodations', which meant you had only as much as you absolutely needed and not a speck more. A thin futon, a working bathroom that only had a toilet, sink, and shower, and a chair and desk against one wall if you were high-ranking enough to be required to provide reports were all that could be found in any room in Las Noches. The holding cells had even less- a toilet, and sink, and a stone bench that qualified as a bed if you weren't too high-strung to sleep (which, if you were in a bad enough situation to be in a holding cell, you probably were). Ichigo had been here about a month, seeing as they fed him twice a day exactly- Ulquiorra was precise like that- and he'd had…twenty-seven, twenty-eight…fifty-three meals so far, so that was, what, twenty-two days? Yeah, he was sometime during his twenty-second day right now, so more or less a month. He was starting to go crazy with the lack of color, frankly, and had begun mutilating himself with his nails just to wipe his blood on the walls if only to break it up. It was getting so bad he couldn't tell the walls and floor from each other, all of it blurring into one large, white formless expanse broken only by the barred door. He had spent some time wondering briefly if that was the point and Aizen meant to break the mind and spirit of those he locked up for large amounts of time by driving them insane with the solid whiteness, but it had only taken him moments to lose his train of thought and return to trying to keep himself some semblance of sane. He was beginning to think he was failing, because the blood marks on the wall started morphing into strange shapes if he stared at them long enough and he was hearing voices in the walls.

Here came another voice, one that sounded almost like one he should recognize for once. It was harsh and deep, rich with the vibrations of a mature male's vocal chords and drenched in rage and vicious intent. He sat on the bench-bed, one knee folded under his chin so he could rest one arm on it, and leaned his head against the wall behind him, staring out through the bars of the doors. Not Ulquiorra, the cuarta would never have that much emotion in his voice, and not one of the regular guards…wait, the shrill tones of the second shift were piping up, apparently arguing with the vibrating voice. Ichigo closed his eyes to wallow in the sound- the waves from the clashing voices were lovely, now that he was sensitive enough to notice such things, and the Vibrating Voice created strong waves that rippled out from the words. _**SLAM!**_ The waves from the outer door slamming open were far too loud and powerful, making the teenager's head spin and his ears ring. Holding his head, he was vaguely able to register that the Vibrating Voice was much closer now, probably in the room with him, and speaking (presumably to him), but he couldn't make out much more than muffled vibrations and violently rippling waves. His palms were over his ears, so even the non-wave noises weren't clear, and he felt the floor-shaking rumble of the barred door opening. Big, hot-skinned hands were suddenly on his own, drawing them aside, and the vibrating voice was directly in his ear- he was being _spoken_ to for the first time in weeks- but he couldn't make sense of the vibrations and the waves and the sounds he knew had to be words! "Stop, stop, I can't understand," he rasped, "it's been so goddamn long since somebody talked t'me I can't makes sense of speech anymore, shut up!"

The vibrations and waves stopped, and a hand on his chin brought his face up so he was looking Grimmjow Jaggerjack in the face, eyes level with the bridge of the Arrancar's nose. "Ichigo, yer free t'go," he said slowly, carefully, and the teen could actually make sense of it this time, "I'm here t'take you home. Come with me." Ichigo laughed softly, almost hysterically, and folded himself against the bigger, stronger body. "Oh good. This Spartan living shit has me so strung I've been imagining people in the walls and I'm so goddamn sensitive to every little change in the surrounding environment it's like a gong being rung in my head. I need to get the fuck outta here."

Warrior (Sequel to "Animals")

Grimmjow had gotten used to life in this whacked-out household fairly quickly. He was rather proud of himself, considering. He'd never seen another mythical or magical creature before he'd come to this house, hadn't even known if they still survived, so becoming accustomed to Ichigo's menagerie of animals normal, mythical, and magical in only a month was pretty damn impressive. Two years later and they'd somehow managed to gather a few more into the fold, and he had been surprised when he was appointed to mentor one of the new recruits- he'd figured he was a bad choice for a role model, with all the house rules he broke (though he'd never, _ever_ broken one of the three Rules Ichigo had laid down for him that first night). He'd been assigned a greenhorn by the name of Haineko- Ash Cat, which just so happened to be her species. She'd been called by the term for so long she had taken it for her name; Grimmjow couldn't blame her either, since he'd only been "Panther" until he named himself so he would remember he was different. She'd been rambunctious and difficult, almost kitten-like despite her four-year-maturity. She was old enough to have heats and birth litters, so he admitted he was rather stern and strict in getting her to behave herself to a degree while still inside the house. He'd probably been a little harsher than he ought to have been, but damn it, she was a female grown! She shouldn't still be gallivanting around like a two-month-old, and he let her know that, that was all. Of course, in all his time here (and 'here' was under Ichigo's roof- he'd moved to America a year and a half ago to someplace out in the middle of a hundred acres of farmland and with a magical barrier around the property to protect and hide everything and everyone inside the property lines, they were in _heaven_ here) he'd never seen a serious fight except between the creatures; animals and creatures deferred to Ichigo, fought with each other, and played gently with kits, hatchlings, and other assorted young. He'd never expected to see anyone attack Ichigo or a creature or animal you knew wasn't able to defend themselves against you, but one day he did and that was when he learned fear.

He'd already known Ichigo could wield magic with extreme skill and was _extremely_ strong in magic, mind, and body, he still remembered being restrained and being dragged back to the house bound, levitated, kicking, snarling, and clawing, but he'd never tested to find out exactly how strong. He'd never wanted to. The day the Dragon attacked, he found out. His Ichigo was a _warrior_. The boy had a will of iron, standing firm, even in the face of ice attacks that would have destroyed any other human, no matter how proficient at magic. Turned out, the strength of your magic wasn't just influenced by how much you could control at any one time, but the intent behind it, and Ichigo's intent was willed with all the force of an avalanche- _YOU WILL NOT HURT MY PROTECTORATE_, he'd roared at the top of his voice, magical shields up and being hammered, and sure enough the Dragon hadn't put so much as a scratch on any being that lived under Ichigo's protection. The same could not be said for Ichigo, unfortunately, who had later been forced (by the Dragon himself, once the poor bastard got his mind back; some evil sorcerer or another had put him under a spell that had him hunting white-feathered Avians for some obscure reason, and failing his mission had broken the spell) to undergo Phoenix healing to seal up the bone-deep wounds he bore. Renji had been scolding him even as he healed, asking why in the hell the human wouldn't let the immortals like him (the Phoenix) or Byakuya (the unicorn) or Zabimaru (the only nue) help him. Hell, even Kazeshini (a snake with slight magical properties like being able to speak human tongues and adjust his size to suit the situation; he was also a Black Mamba, one of the most deadly snakes known to man) would've been of some use! Ichigo snorted, sounding oddly like Shiro, and replied that he promised to protect anyone that came to him for protection, and that meant from rampaging legendary mythical creatures too.

Grimmjow had, after the largest and most life-threatening wounds were taken care of, poked and prodded at his human (Ichigo was his…everyone knew that it's not the people that own cats, but cats that own the people, after all…) until the man finally gave in and let him lick his scratches, cuts, and burns until they healed up from the healing agent in his spit. When he rose from where he had knelt to clean a cut on Ichigo's shin, he nuzzled the strong jaw and didn't care that he had to bend down to do it. "Next time, my warrior human, at least let _me_ go into battle at your back. I can't let my first and favorite human get hurt on my watch, you know."

Dominance

It had never been a debate which male which was dominant and which was submissive in the relationship. It was pre-set, as most things about their kind were, easily discerned by scent. Then, of course, one of their comrades had to go and point out that Ichigo _didn't_ smell like a submissive. Grimmjow hadn't understood- his mate sure as hell smelled submissive to HIS nose. Others had piped up, about half declaring he had the sweet, light scent of a submissive, and the rest adamantly declaring he radiated the dark, spicy scent of a powerful dominant. When arguments, and then actual fights broke out, Grimmjow used his authority as Leader to amplify his voice and roared for silence and order. Once these demands were met, he turned calmly to his mate and asked if he could explain this phenomenon. Ichigo, not even putting down the water skin he was drinking from, replied simply, "I am unique in that I am neither Dominant nor Submissive. As a result, my scent _lies_…I smell like whatever the person smelling me would prefer I be. Also, because of this unique feature of mine, I don't have a predestined mate like other Panthers. Technically, I'm not supposed to have a mate at all, since whatever mate I chose to take would then be separated from his or her destined mate that was chosen for them by the Great Mother." Standing, the orange-haired panther gave his –um, _not_ mate? –a small bow. "Now you know why I never let you mate-bond me. I suppose I'll see you around…" Before anyone could question him, he was gone.

A year later, Grimmjow was still referring to Ichigo as his lost mate. He stubbornly insisted that if the orange-haired Panther wasn't his mate, nobody was, because he'd met and talked to and investigated every living Panther there was and none drew him the way his mate would. The way Ichigo had. The humans had hunted them nearly to extinction, so they only existed in a very small patch of islands close to the Philippians and yet hidden from the outside world. This meant that he'd literally met every other Panther in existence and none were his mate but Ichigo. In asking around to find Ichigo, however, he found out something that had chilled him to the soul- there _was_ no small pride of five with an elder son and younger twin girls that had lost the mother on any of the islands, and there hadn't _been_ a pride that even resembled that in _years_. The last twins to be born were three generations ago and they had been twin BROTHERS. It seemed that Ichigo hadn't been telling them the truth from the beginning. Hell, maybe his name hadn't even been Ichigo! Could he have been…could he really have been human? Well, he must've been, there were only Panthers and Humans aside from lower-class animals, after all. But why was the real question. Why come to the island of Panthers, live among them for years, and then disappear all of a sudden? The answer had come to the pride leader along with a sickening dread: _research_. The humans knew there was a small colony of Panthers surviving somewhere, and now they not only had someone who knew where, but knew all the Panther customs and mannerisms, how to infiltrate and destroy them from the inside.

He was on lookout duty again (he usually was these days, just in case Ichigo decided to return to him) when he heard crashing through the trees- something large was fleeing, and it sounded like it only had two legs. Probably a human then, but what was one doing this deep in the Panther Islands? He sharpened his senses, and he finally heard something he'd been praying to hear for almost two years. "Up hup!" It was the cutest thing- whenever Ichigo hauled himself onto a branch, he'd leap up and grab it in his hands, saying "Up hup" as he pulled his body weight up and onto the branch. It was just a unique quirk of his. Ichigo was back in the forest. He was _back_! Now- was the fleeing human Ichigo or was the fleeing human Ichigo's prey? When asked what he'd done to survive all alone before meeting Grimmjow, he had once tilted his head with a sneaky little smile and told them blandly, "I hunted humans for a living." They hadn't understood the phrase 'for a living', but they didn't need to. So the question was, was Ichigo the prey or the hunter in this particular instance? _Thump_! "Aagh!" "Stupid boy," purred Ichigo's smooth voice dangerously, "did you really think you could fool me? In my own _territory_? Stupid, stupid boy, poor little boy," his tone changed to a croon, "sent out to do a man's job. Such a pity I can't let you live. You violated my _territory_ and orders or not I just can't let that go. I have to kill you or risk invasion from all sides, and I just can't have THAT. Little child, little child, who did you wrong? What ranked officer did you royally piss off to have him send you on a suicide mission into **my** _territory_ of all _territories_, boy? I'll kill them for you after you're dead, I promise. Who was it, boy?"

Whimpers and cries came from the boy- Grimmjow shuddered, he'd have to think of him as prey to keep from being ill- and something that must've been the name. Ichigo soothed him. "Don't worry, boy, it won't hurt at all. I only make it hurt for enemies, and you're just a little boy in the wrong place at the worst time. Sshhh, sshhh, it's okay…tell Hallibel The Demon says 'hi' when you see her." A sick, wet crack rang through the forest, and Grimmjow closed his eyes and worked to keep his stomach down. Among the Panthers, whose numbers were so small, children were precious beyond all else and the thought of killing a child, no matter how evil, was one of the most horrible. The only thing worse was rape. A deep sigh came from the foliage hiding his mate. "Only twelve, this one…that bastard sent his own son deep into my _territory_, where he knew I couldn't show mercy…it's finally his turn to die." A growl that made Grimmjow's hair stand on end was followed quickly by barely-there sounds of retreat. Grimmjow thought to himself that maybe it was best that Ichigo wouldn't return quite yet- he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be dominant to him anymore and he needed time to adjust to that very, very scary thought.

Heart

Grimmjow had never cared about the hows and whys of the heart. That was Ulquiorra's racket. But he wondered about it from time to time, and after he fought the Kurosaki brat he spent a little time trying to figure out if the mythological 'heart' was what gave the kid that power to keep going even when he knew he was only plowing onwards towards his death. Curious, he'd spent a little time studying the boy and had eventually come to the conclusion that yes, the 'heart' was the endless wellspring from which he was always able to draw more strength, no matter how beat down, outclassed, or outnumbered he was. It had something to do with 'emotion' and 'love', which upon questioning Ulquiorra explained originated in the human heart. Now, of course, learning this pissed Grimmjow off immensely, because it meant that there was a power source that could make you damn near invincible and he could not possess it- it also meant that every whimpering human and pathetic shinigami that had called him a 'heartless monster' had essentially been calling him _weak_. Irritated with this, one day after mulling over how the hell he could get a 'heart' and coming up with no answers at all, since the power source obviously wasn't the organ (he had one of those, as his pulse could prove) he ripped open a gargantua and set out to search for the boy. The heart-passion of the others in the Living World were pale imitations of the heights that boy could reach, so the one who could best tell him how to get one had to be the young shinigami himself. He found the one he wanted in a small human den- a 'house', he thought they called them- and since the pride was in the middle of a meal, he settled down to wait outside the den. It was only fair not to interrupt.

Besides, interrupting the pride meal did _not_ make the Leader (or Alpha male, as dogs called it) more inclined to help you, so it was much better not to distract him or pose a threat to the Pride. The shinigami also obviously was the Leader of this small pride, batting aside the male that must've been his Sire effortlessly when the older male challenged him. The Sire was almost like a mildly irritating fly that you flick with your tail if it bites but otherwise ignore, so he couldn't be the Leader and Kurosaki was the only other male present. He was a good Leader, looking after the pride when the meal was done, ushering the young females upstairs (probably to rest) and the Sire into a room of comfortable furniture, handling the cleanup himself. All good Leaders took care of the pride first- and it didn't seem like it was too hard to make it into this particular pride either. The other shinigami managed with relative ease, but then again it had all been wrapped up in and around an effort to save one of the people already _in_ the pride, so he'd needed to make allies along the way. There was no way to orchestrate such a thing, and if Kurosaki ever found out it would destroy any credibility or trust he managed to earn, so that was out. He'd just have to try working the respect angle. First, wait until the kid was alone- he hadn't established himself as "not-a-threat" yet, and if the boy was busy defending and protecting his pride Grimmjow would never get anywhere- he had to approach the brat on equal terms, had to prove he came in peace…this time, at least. He just _had_ to find out about the thrice-damned thing humans called the "heart"! He could tolerate anything for the answers he sought.

Smile

Stomping along through the forest, crushing twigs and leaves under his heavy hooves, the blue-haired centaur was in quite a temper. So what if he wasn't the Herd Leader's first-born son? He was still a warrior, a damn good one, and he was the best Hunter in the herd! His abnormally sharp hearing caught the sound of hooves fleeing from his position, but it sounded heavier than the deer that frequented this area and that startled him. He knew of no other large hoofed animals in this general area, as there were no horses here and those of his herd were the only centaurs, and this sounded very, very large indeed…perhaps even larger than your typical fully mature centaur male. Something growled, something else roared, and Grimmjow took off running. That roar sounded like a cross between a human yell and a stallion's scream- that was a distinctly centaur sound. He came into the clearing just as a massive, sunset-orange centaur brought down his front hooves to crush a wolf that had been foolish enough to rush him. This male was absolutely huge, the largest he'd ever seen in fact, with long hair that trailed down past where his human torso met his horse body that curled around his waist. The appearance of a second centaur spooked the remaining wolves, and they fled with their lives. The enormous stranger barely gave Grimmjow a glance, crouching and bending to pick up the still-warm corpse, which he then slung over his back as if the fifteen-stone wolf weighed no more than a small bag of herbs. (Note from Author: for you folks who aren't aware of how much a "stone" weighs, it's about 20 pounds. So fifteen-stone is roughly 300 pounds. It's an older term, but I use it fairly often.) One large hand on the wolf's ribs to keep it steady, the bigger male studied Grimmjow from the corner of his eye. He was extremely subtle; if Grimmjow hadn't been the best Hunter around, he would never have noticed.

The orange-maned stranger suddenly turned, gave Grimmjow the smallest of acknowledging nods, and then promptly spun around and galloped off. Startled, Grimmjow was abruptly seized by his herd instinct from being caught off-guard and he immediately thundered after the stranger, afraid he'd seen the wolves coming back. He didn't have his bow or arrows with him, only a small knife in his belt, and even though he was a good warrior, wolf packs were good too. Alone, he might not be able to survive against them, and he wasn't arrogant enough to try. His muscles strained to keep up with the other- the bigger male was a good two feet taller and a foot and a half of that was all leg, so it was damned hard to stay with him. Upon reaching a river, the orange one slowed himself first to a canter, then a trot, then a walk, and finally came to a stop once he'd splashed through to the other side of the river, the water obviously cooling him. Grimmjow followed his example, drawing up beside the other one breathless and overheated, though feeling better for his dunk in the cold river. Lightly shaking some water from his coat, he gave the bigger male a glance and found questioning amber eyes on him. He fidgeted uncomfortably, waiting for the stranger to speak, but he remained silent. Instead, he stepped closer to press right up against the smaller male, an intimidation tactic used by stallions when a strange stallion challenged them for their herd. Confused, Grimmjow stepped back, his body submissively declaring he was making no such challenge. The other's orange brows furrowed, obviously confused, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Why wouldn't he speak? Grimmjow would understand his question then!

"I don't know what you're asking," he spoke, voice gravelly after his long run, "you have to ask me out loud." The stranger backed up immediately, head tossing angrily, and growled at him. It wasn't even a human-like growl, which centaurs were known to make, but a growl that sounded exactly like it came from the throat of an angry wolf. Grimmjow's hair stood on end. _I'm sorry!_ he tried to say with his body, because human speech apparently upset the larger, and he heard the angry stomping stop. It seemed that he'd gotten his message across. The growl came again, this time more like a threat than anything, and a hot hand clamped around his upper arm in a grip that was just shy of bruising. He winced, but didn't dare object, and followed docilely when the other started pulling him along. For the first time since he'd outgrown his brothers to become the fastest and strongest, he was genuinely afraid. This male was bigger, stronger, and faster than him, and unlike most had no visible dislike of killing. Further, he seemed to hate human speech for some reason, and Grimmjow couldn't help wishing he hadn't opened his damned mouth. The other had been treating him more or less well before he's spoken, more as a curiosity than anything else, but now he was being treated like a very serious and dangerous threat. He normally wanted to be considered a threat so he was less likely to be attacked, but in this case he would prefer to have stayed a mere curiosity. The big male pulled up short, Grimmjow with him. The blue centaur was pointed towards a field where several others were lazily lounging, and a sharp slap to his rump propelled him toward them.

He managed to slow down and stop after reaching the center of the clearing, circling around in confusion to figure out why the hell he'd been forced to come here, but the orange male had disappeared like he was never there. Even more confused, he looked at the centaurs around him, recognizing after a moment that he recognized them from another local herd that was more or less blood-feuding with his. Worried that they, too, would consider him a threat, he cautiously began to back up. A small, black-haired female he remembered once getting hard in the gut with his clawed hand noticed him and reared in fury. "_Arrancar!_ How dare you invade our secret place? How did you find us here?" He danced away from her, careful not to back into one of the others. "I didn't! The orange-haired male-" A red centaur he dimly remembered as Ren-something, Renji maybe, snarled at him. "Ichigo would not associate himself with the likes of you, Arrancar. Do not dare use him in your lies!" Grimmjow growled back, angry. Warrior, Hunter, and bastard he may be, but he was not and had never been a liar. "I do not lie, Shinigami scum, not even to an enemy! The orange-haired male with the long mane and the biggest centaur I've ever seen in my life was being attacked by wolves and I went to help. They spooked and bolted when they saw me, as he'd already killed one of 'em. He gave me a nod and then bolted himself, and I was startled so I followed. It had triggered my herd instinct. He came to a stop after crossing a river and I asked him what was wrong, but he became highly agitated and upset once I'd spoken. He grabbed me by the arm and forced me over here, and I don't even know why because he wouldn't speak."

He shifted uncomfortably, and added to the small female, "By the way, I'm sorry about hurtin' ya so bad that one time, but ya _were_ tryin' ta kill me an' my brothers and it _was_ the middle of a battle, so what could I do? It wasn't personal. I left my herd anyways, the Herd Leader treats everybody other than Gin and Tousen like shit if they ain't a mindless zombie that obeys him without question." Hearing something snap behind him, he whirled and found just what he'd hoped he'd never see- the Execution Squad. Five of the most brutal killers in the herd that went and tracked down anyone who left or was banished to 'clean up the mess'. "Shit." His older brother Nnoitra headed the squad, and he approached first. "Oi Grimm! Stupid thing you done, leavin' right in front of Pops. You know he don't take rejection well." He crossed his arms over his bare chest, cursing that he'd left all his weapons behind when he'd stormed out of their home clearing. "Yeah, yeah, I wasn't gonna let him use me as a bargaining tool and get married off to some stranger for an alliance. I will not let him treat me like a boar tusk, to be traded and bartered and discarded when it has no more use!" The overly-tall-and-skinny centaur laughed. "I don't blame ya, little brother. The boys an' I, "he jerked his head at his subordinates,"will tell Pops the wolf pack got ya. With none of yer weapons, he'll believe that. An' here- I brought ya Pantera and your huntin' stuff." The stunned blue-haired centaur caught them as they were tossed, hooking the bow on his shoulder where it always rested and reverently tying his prized sword at his hip. "I… thanks, Nnoitra. Yer a good brother." They shook hands, and Nnoitra tossed his head casually. "I hate Pops way more than I hate you, so you don't gotta worry about me. Y'know, I heard there's a wild herd out in this area somewhere…guess the Leader don't speak at all and hates hearin' it. There's supposed to be a path near the waterfall…good luck, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow gave him another nod of thanks and took off. He couldn't join any of the other local herds or Aizen, their father, would know Nnoitra had lied when he saw Grimmjow was alive. He needed to hide, and a wild herd would be exactly what he needed. Armed this time, he feared no wolves or boars, and carefully traced a nearly-invisible path from beside the waterfall to a well-hidden clearing that was protected on all sides by ten-foot thorn bushes that produced a sweet-smelling, velvet-petaled red flower. You'd never make it past those thick, thorny hedges unless you found the small opening the path led to. Upon entering, he found himself face-to-face with the orange male from earlier, and he nearly backed right out of the clearing again when the saw the thunderous expression the bigger centaur was wearing. "Easy, easy," he murmured, hands open to show he had no ready weapon, his stance deferential to the other, "I've been banished from my herd and wanted to join yours. My Herd Leader wants to kill me." The other stared hard at him for a moment more, then huffed. "Very well," his smooth baritone said softly, "come meet the others." Grimmjow happily followed behind him to meet the rest of his new Herd. There were two little twin girls and a mated pair that introduced themselves as Ichigo's mother and father, his mother having the same distinct orange hair he did. The girls, though twins, were of opposing personalities, the younger twin as sweet as their mother and with bright strawberry-blond hair, the elder twin rough-and-tumble like her brother and father with dark black hair that shone in the sunlight. Grimmjow was welcomed warmly, and he couldn't help the wide, joyful smile that wouldn't leave his lips. He'd never felt so at home before in his life, and he was happy to be accepted for once.

Ichigo, carefully monitoring the stranger's interactions with his family, decided the male's intentions were pure and joined the rest, giving his new friend a small but genuine smile in return that he would later learn stole the blue male's breath with its beauty.

Hard

Sitting up in bed, irritated beyond belief, Ichigo was staring with a twitching orange eyebrow at the tent in his lap. "Look," he growled at it, "I'm perfectly happy to see you're in working order and all, but no way am I touching you. I refuse to jack off an erection I got from a wet dream I had about my best friend's husband." The tent twitched insistently at the memory of the dream. His eyebrow twitched again in response. "No." Completely ignoring it now, he flopped back to the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. Twenty minutes later, completely exasperated, he cursed teenage hormones that had grabbed his body late in life and crept one hand under blankets and boxers to gently caress the tightened flesh. It being the first time in years he'd touched himself like this, his hardness jolted at the heat of his hand. He hissed, almost drew his hand back because he was just too sensitive, but gritted his teeth and wrapped his hand all the way around and pulled. No, it was just too damn much, it hurt more than it felt good. He wasn't doing this. Thoroughly irritated, he threw the blankets off and stripped down to bare skin- he was going to go take a cold shower. "Oi Shinigami- Oh. Um, bad time?" Ichigo buried his face in his hands, blushing red to the roots of his hair. "Yes, Grimmjow, it's a bad time. You choose the worst times possible to come pick a fight with me, you realize that? Honestly, almost every single time you catch me naked." Where he perched on the windowsill, Grimmjow grinned sheepishly. "Just yer bad luck, I guess."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow at him, grabbing one of his thin summer sheets and dragging it over his lap in a semblance of modesty. "And it's only my bad luck, not yours?" Grimmjow face changed then, his expression one Ichigo had never seen before. It seemed almost…embarrassed. "Well uh…ya know we Hollows don't make much distinction between genders…so really…as far as I'm concerned, it's damn good luck tha' I almost always catch ya nekkid." The teen tried not to be disturbed by this discovery and found it wasn't as hard as it might have been to accept. "Well, I'm nevertheless going to take a cold shower, so unless you're willing to wait about an hour, you'll have to come back another day." Grimmjow blue brows drew together as he frowned confusedly. "Ya mean…ya ain't gonna take care o' that? Yer just gonna ignore it an' make it go away?" Ichigo snorted. "I'm too sensitive to be touched- it _hurts_ to be touched there- so yeah, I'm gonna ignore it." Another new expression from Grimmjow- this time a suggestive leer. "Mebbe I can help ya out, Shinigami." Against his better sense, Ichigo let his head tilt to the side and his eyes fall half-lidded. "Maybe…my shower's big enough for two, I think…if you'd like to propose any ideas." Then he dropped the sheet and deliberately sashayed out the door and down the hall to the bathroom, each movement putting his body on display. Like he thought, it took only a few seconds to realization to reach Grimmjow's stunned brain and quick footsteps followed him.

During later experimentation with this budding sexual relationship, Ichigo would figure out a sure-fire way to get Grimmjow hard instantly and in some cases randy enough to take orders with no protest. All he had to do was get unbearably aroused himself- when he got aroused, hard or not, he released heavy hormones and pheromones that always drove Grimmjow crazy. As a result, Grimmjow found himself having an almost continual erection around Ichigo, because seeing the blue-haired Arrancar always made Ichigo have a spike of lust from remembering the things said Arrancar did to him in the dead of night. "But you made me hard!" became the panther's favorite excuse to persuade the teen (and, funnily enough, that pathetic protest usually worked) for some time in the sheets.


	8. numbers 61 to 70

61. Soft

He was a hard man. Grimmjow knew this. It was more than easy to see just by looking at him- spiked orange hair weighed down with sweat, an eternal scowl and more muscle than he'd ever seen on a real man in his life. He was a Soul Reaper, one of the Devils of Rukon and even had a fancy white coat that he thought meant he was really, really strong. But Grimmjow was desperate and he was running out of time. He had no more options. Timidly, cradling his precious cargo in his arm to protect her should a blow come, he reached up and pulled ever-so-lightly on the stranger's long sleeve. He was granted full and absolute attention immediately, the man's head whipping around so fast the movement seemed almost inhuman. Gulping back the fear and wishing he was big enough to actually _use_ the ratty, dirty, damaged-edged katana he carried on his back, he looked straight back into that Devil's eyes. "Excuse me, sir, can you help me?" The soul reaper did something that honestly surprised him- he bent at the waist enough to get a better look at him. "Depends on what kinda help," the tall man rumbled, his voice deep but somehow soothing. Grimmjow swallowed hard, steeled his nerves, and shifted so the man could see the little gray bundle he held. "She was kicked and stepped on, and I think her ribs might be broke. I can't fix it myself," he admitted, cheeks burning in shame. He didn't know why he'd ever thought a Devil would be willing to help him, especially not with this, but she was just so small and helpless. He couldn't bring himself to let that kitten die in the dust.

The man examined her for a moment, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and Grimmjow waited for the 'can't help ya kid.' but it never came. Only a deep bass chuckle and a huge, warm hand moving to give the kitten a soft stroke. "She's a little fighter, this one. If she had already died there would be nothing I could do, but she's hangin' in there." A soft green glow came from the hand touching her, getting stronger and stronger until it suddenly disappeared like it had never been. Kisa, for her part, yawned, stretched, and popped her head out over Grimmjow's arm, eyes wide and bright. Her ears perked, she batted at the man's fingers and he let her, twiddling them a bit to entice her to play and laughing when she bit and scratched at his 'captured' digits. As best as Grimmjow could tell, she was perfectly fine and happy as though she'd never been hurt. "I…don't have any food or money to trade…" The stranger looked up from watching the kitten, his face mostly blank but still sort of amused from her antics. "Hmm? Oh, no, kid, you don't gotta trade or pay me nothin'. I'm a sucker for cats an' especially for kittens." Grimmjow set his jaw- he knew he was pretty. For being only twelve, he managed to pay for most of the small things he needed (food, mostly) by either doing manual labor or…_that_. He didn't like owing, and that he could get away with paying something small if he paid right away was something he'd had to learn the hard way. There was nothing he hated more than paying _that_ way, but he couldn't owe a Soul Reaper. Forcing down his stomach, he leaned up and kissed the man, straight on the mouth.

The man blinked at him, obviously confused, before his eyes darkened and he pulled back. "No, I told you, you don't have to pay me." Grimmjow couldn't help growling at him; his eyes were already dark with evil lusts, and he did _not_ want his debt having 'interest' added to it later. "You saved my Kisa. I always pay what I owe. I hate having my debts called in later." The man shook his head, coming down to Grimmjow's level more fully by dropping to one knee. "And Ichigo Kurosaki does _not_, I repeat, _does not_ ever, **ever** ask for payment, particularly not from a kid and never in my life have I been 'paid' that way, nor would I want to be." Suddenly he paused, and his brows furrowed as he frowned. "No, my mistake…one man paid his debt to me that way, just once. He…he looked just like you, only about ten years older and full-grown. No, I will never take that kind of payment." His scowl returned with a vengeance, and he growled. "As far as I'm concerned, the blue-haired bastard still owes me!" He rose then, one hand clenching into a fist while the other rested on Grimmjow's own blue locks. "Damned bastard- I saved his life only so he himself could end it? Fucker owes me still for pullin' that shit." Grimmjow felt something unknown and strange well up inside him, and the words passed his lips before he could stop them. "He paid! He owes you nothing, he paid what he owed!"

That day Grimmjow learned something rather funny from an orange-haired Soul Reaper devil…hard men, even angry and argumentative, could have a very, very soft touch.

62 Property

It really hadn't meant anything at first, but it gradually become a running joke, a game of sorts, as to who 'owned' whom among their close-knit group. It had started originally because someone pranked Renji by sewing 'Property of Byakuya Kuchiki' in bright pink thread across the shoulders of every uniform he owned. The aforementioned being both his captain and his lover, this statement was not only correct but incredibly embarrassing. Then Rukia got it into her head that everyone in their group ought to be Property for a while to make him feel a little less humiliated. They picked out of a hat, and some of them more or less made sense- Chad was Property of Ichigo, for instance- while others were pure insanity- Kenpatchi was Property of Ishida. They'd jokingly bet their 'property' on cards or dice (which was nice when they had no more money to gamble with) and everybody switched owners so many times they had to take to wearing armbands to keep it straight. Sometimes people became property of themselves- they were 'freemen'- but that status was usually quickly lost with an irresistible round of poker and a drink of sake. They had just finished a round of these games, sometimes referred to as 'swap meets' because that's all they really did, swapping armbands and owners, when the roar of an opening gargantua drew them outside. They were actually rather disinterested in the Espada that came out, as Grimmjow usually arrived about this time of the week to pick another fight with Ichigo. Completely ignoring the panther hovering above them, they finished straightening out who the hell belonged to whom, and got armbands exchanged.

As Ichigo finally rose to meet his opponent, he grumbled at the red-and-black armband that stretched over his bicep. To make it a little more fun, once you transferred 'owners' you had to spend a day doing tasks for that person, but only one day so it wasn't that bad. He was Property of Renji again, which meant that tomorrow he'd be stuck doing the lieutenant's paperwork for the third time this week. Of course, that was better than having to run and fight for fifteen hours when he was Property of Kenpatchi. With a sigh, he readied Zangetsu but Grimmjow didn't respond- he seemed to be too busy staring at his arm…oh, he was probably trying to read the armband! "It says Property of Renji," he muttered, trying to bring Grimmjow back to the fight- this weekly brawl was how he worked out all his pent up aggression, after all. Grimmjow glared. "What th'hell has _he_ done fer ya to belong ta him? Last week it was Orihime, and th'week before that was Hanatarou! Why th'hell do they keep tradin' ya off? Don't ya mean anythin' ta them?" Ichigo shrugged. "Not as more than a friend. Shit, I've traded and bet and switched my Property around must've been a thousand times by now, I can't expect them to be any better. Besides," he added at the espada's horrorstruck expression, "I don't think you understand the whole 'Property' situation right. It ain't _serious_, ya know, it's only fun for us."

Grimmjow shook his head. "Yeah, I don't understand it. With us, what belongs ta ya _belongs_ ta ya. Ya don't give it up fer anythin'. It's only fun when the owner actually gives a shit, and then he holds on so fuckin' tight you'll never get his property away from 'im." Ichigo sighed- it looked like he wasn't getting his fight tonight at all. "You're still not getting it- we're not _actually_ property of anyone, we just say we are to make Renji feel better because we know he belongs, body and soul, to his Captain and lover. We make light of it so he feels less humiliated." Grimmjow growled. "It's no shame to belong! Unless…does his lover _not_ belong to him in return?" The teen shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure, he's too much like Ulquiorra- always emotionless unless in absolute private and even then he's usually formal and stiff." This set off a whole new round of arguments because this confused Grimmjow all over again. They seriously never should've started this 'Property' crap.

63. Manners

Grimmjow couldn't help it- he was going to die of embarrassment. He finally, _finally_ managed to talk his walking wet dream of a classmate into going on an actual DATE with him, a fucking DATE after nearly _three years_ of hard work to persuade the stubborn young man to give him a chance, and it was getting entirely ruined because the babysitter had canceled at the last minute and he'd had to bring his kid sister along. Nel, when she wanted to, could act like a perfect little angel. When she _didn't_ want to, she was rude, crude, demonic hellspawn with green hair. Right now she was screaming at the poor waitress for not putting the pancakes just right on the plate, and he was frantically trying to calm her down and apologize to the waitress at the same time. He was surprised, but extremely relieved, when Ichigo (his lovely, lovely date) took charge of the hysterical child. No fuss, no warning, he just picked her straight up by her syrup-stained clothes and carried her outside, ignoring her struggles, screams, and crying. Absolutely humiliated by this behavior from his own flesh and blood, Grimmjow did his best to soothe and apologize to the waitress, who accepted it gracefully and with a weary smile that said she'd seen it all before. He paid the bill and slunk out the door, knowing it would be a _long_ time before he would be able to enter this place without his face bursting into a cherry-red blush from shame, and went to see where his date had taken his sister. He found them out by his car, the pouting child pinned firmly to the seat by her legs under Ichigo's strong hands, and Ichigo was very quietly but seriously lecturing her on the fairer points of good manners. He stood back and let the obviously more experienced man work.

After nearly ten minutes of lecturing, he got Nel to agree to apologize to the waitress, apologize to _him_, and agree to not do that anymore or she'd never get to go to nice places with her big brother again (surprisingly, that threat was more effective than anything Grimmjow had ever tried). Much later, the fiasco finally over with, Grimmjow asked how he had known what to do. Ichigo shrugged and told him he had two younger sisters that had learned all they knew about good and bad manners from him.

64. Land

"You cannot _own_ the earth! It is our Mother and cannot be controlled by the likes of man. If you'd ever stopped to _look_ you'd know that already." The redskin with strange orange hair was furious- he'd been repeating roughly the same thing for almost a day and still this white-skinned demon didn't understand! It probably didn't help that he had said demon tied to a tree and had taken all his weapons, leaving him at his mercy. The demon had the most interesting hair- blue the color of the sky on a cloudy day- and if Ichigo had been from a tribe that practiced scalping he would've been unable to resist that particular prize. Since he didn't, he settled for cutting a thick lock that hung over one ear (that he was surprised to find wasn't pointed) and tucking it into his amulet pouch. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that meeting this pale-face would have some marked significance later in life. The bound man seemed convinced that Ichigo was going to kill him so he didn't hesitate to argue with him about the most basic of things, including if it was _possible_ to 'own' land. Giving up for the moment, Ichigo sighed and scratched his head, careful not to dislodge the three eagle feathers braided into his hair that marked him as the son of the Chief. It was nearing time for the evening meal, and if he didn't get back to the village they would worry over him, but he couldn't untie the white-skinned demon for fear of him stalking him and attacking the village. Still, demon or not, it was too cruel to leave him tied there to starve. "Big brother, big brother!" He was quick to turn and catch his youngest sibling, a toddler by the name of Kon. At five years old, his favorite words were "Big Brother" and his seemingly _only_ activity was following his eldest sibling around. "You should not have followed me again, Kon," he scolded, "I was scouting. What if I had run into a Sioux band, or the Crow, where would you be? You're still too little to fight."

Though Grimmjow couldn't understand a goddamn word of the language that savage was speaking, he understood the gist of the scolding tone; that kid was _not_ supposed to be here. Maybe it was his son? Sons tended to follow their fathers around even when they were supposed to stay put, as he remembered doing as a kid. The redskin looked rather young to be a father, but shit, savages got married at barbaric young ages so it was entirely possible. He wondered if he'd beat the kid. He'd probably find it hard to watch such a young boy be beaten and he'd be unable to stop struggling against the ropes if that happened- he _could not stand_ child brutality, even from a red-skinned-devil-savage-barbarian. The kid reached up and yanked on his father's hair, the same distinctive orange as his, and though it had to hurt all the older male did was tilt his head to pull it from the little one's grip. The kid pouted, still getting scolded, and after a moment he perked up and asked something in that strange tongue. The bigger redskin sighed, then said something in reply very slowly and carefully and set the child on the ground. The kid gave a sharp nod and tore off through the forest, probably heading straight home, and Grimmjow couldn't help relaxing just a little. The savage (he knew his name but was refusing to use it) sighed again, this time much deeper, and ran a hand through his hair before grabbing his bow and arrows and disappearing into foliage, leaving no visible trail unlike his son. Still tied much too tightly to get free anytime soon, Grimmjow slumped against the ropes.

Ichigo returned later, carrying two rabbits and a small basket of herbs along with a clay pot. The basket itself was serviceable, made from the thick, tough reeds that grew near the riverbanks, and though he knew very little about edible plants, he could recognize a few and with the rabbits would be able to make a tolerable stew. He ignored that Grimmjow looked shocked to see him, the man's mouth hanging open, and quickly filled the pot with water and set to skinning the rabbits, keeping the skin carefully intact- Orihime, Ishida's wife, was expecting her first child soon and he wanted to give her a rabbit-skin blanket to wrap the newborn in. The bones were thoroughly cleaned of meat and set aside with the skin- a few would be made into leatherworking tools, and the smallest ones would go inside a rattle his sister was making, while the remaining ones could be fashioned into jewelry or extra tools that he could trade. The pot he'd borrowed from a cairn nearby in which some dried food and other useful things for the traveler or warrior on a mission could be found and would return when he was through, and worked more than well enough for the simple stew. Unsure of how to prepare the plants once the meat was in, he examined it from leaves to roots and sighed. He knew he couldn't just plop the whole darn thing in, but he wasn't sure which was the good part- the leaves, the stems, or the roots?

"The dark green one yer holding, what do ya call it?" A bit startled at the voice suddenly coming from behind him, as he was under the impression the white-skin was ignoring him, he nearly tore the plant in half. "_Jalin_. I think the man who taught us English called it 'basil'." The pale-face nodded. "Ya use the leaves o' that one. Roots 're bitter an' stem's too tough. Tearin' the leaves up first gives it more flavor too. What about tha' white bulb-root?" Tearing up the leaves, as he saw no reason for the demon to lie, he glanced at it before concentrating on putting the leaf bits in the pot. "_Hihal_. You call it 'garlic'." The man's nose wrinkled. "The bulb breaks up inta fragments. Strong stuff, so for a pot that size four of 'em oughta be enough. Crushing or cuttin' helps with those too." Finished with the _jalin_, he tore off four decent-sizes chunks of _hihal_ and crushed each piece between the heels of his palms after peeling away the papery outer skin. "And the _kigji?_ You call it 'onion'. The man who taught English gave us the seeds to grow them, so you must know what it is." The demon nodded, wincing again. "Also damned strong. Peel off the flaking skin until it's kinda firm an' almost crunchy, then ya gotta cut it apart, first in half and then inta slices. You'll only need onea those." Carefully following these instructions, he got a fairly well-sliced _kigji_ in the pot and looking more and more like soup. He must've had too much water for it to be stew. Having recognized no other edible plant, he simply watched it boil and stirred it from time to time until after a few hours it looked and smelled too good to resist anymore. Scooping the soup carefully into his bowl and trying not to burn his fingers, he then brought it to his prisoner.

Setting the bowl to one side, he rocked slightly on the feels of his bare feet, worrying his lip with his canines. "If I untie you so you can eat, I think you will run away. If I free just one hand, then you can untie yourself. If you want to be fed, you will have to cooperate." The white demon was quiet a moment, the nodded his understanding and Ichigo picked up the bowl again. It was a little strange, how quietly the man accepted being spoon-fed like an invalid or a child, but since his stomach had been letting out irritated grumbles the Ryoka supposed hunger had won out over pride. Hunger and thirst usually did. When he finished, licking his lips, Ichigo noted that his stomach was still rumbling and fed him a second, third, and fourth bowl. After the fourth he sighed contentedly and smiled, just a tiny bit. "I've had enough. Thanks." Ichigo chuckled, scooping up a bowlful for himself as he went to sit nearby the white demon who, he had noticed during the feeding, looked less like a demon than a starved mountain lion. "I _do_ have you tied to the tree. You can hardly hunt a meal yourself, and my tribe is not in the habit of starving people. Even the criminals are fed, and bathed, and given enough to drink."

For being so simple, it was quite good soup, and he made a mental note to tell the other hunters. They would be able to make it while out on the long journeys to find buffalo. The demon, he noticed, was watching him intently with confused eyes. Those eyes were something else, ethereal almost just like his hair, layers upon layers of blue that intermingled beautifully. "You treat me well even though I am your enemy. Why?" Ichigo chewed thoughtfully on a piece of meat. "Despite the scuffle when I jumped you and tied you up, you haven't actually hurt me, so I can't say I bear any more ill-will for you than I would for any other pale-faced demon. Since I have no particular grudge against you, why wouldn't I treat you well?" He became quiet then, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing, and Ichigo returned to his soup. The white-skin didn't seem inclined to be too argumentative for the rest of the night, more or less answering Ichigo's questions calmly and explaining his people's views on things that Ichigo did his best to correct (land could not be owned, women were not chaff nor broodmares, he was _not_ a savage barbarian…). The shaman arrived in the morning, and after sharing a meal with the two he advised Ichigo that a large group of the demons was approaching the area and his prisoner could be released to them. The prisoner asked if one of them was wearing a creepy black-and-white mask and had yellow, rotting teeth, and on confirmation turned green and explained that they were who he'd _escaped_ from. He wouldn't explain why he needed to escape them, so after a little more deliberation he went to their village.

Many months later Grimmjow left the village- _his_ village- with the crow feathers of a brave in his lengthened hair, got snatched up by his five lieutenants who had been searching for him since he'd gone missing, and was promptly dragged back to England kicking and screaming. Quite literally. By the time he was able to return, the village had long moved and he thought they must've gone west, but since his lieutenants had come with him and dragged him back to the ship every time he tried to give them the slip, he was never quite able to find them. He did, however, find his bow and arrows wrapped in leather that had been rubbed with animal fat to make it more or less waterproof where the village had been, so they must've heard his warning that he was being taken and that they had to stay away. He smiled when he gathered those up, holding them close, because it meant he hadn't been declared a traitor and if he ever found the village again he would be allowed to return. It still boggled his mind that he had gained a whole new life and it all started with an argument over if it was possible to own land or not.

(No offense to any Native Americans who actually bother to read my stories is intended and I'm not even sure if the Sioux and Crow lived in territories close enough for them to cross paths with a third party, but I freely admit I'm too lazy to do research for a mere drabble so feel free to correct me and please know I am not being offensive on purpose if this does offend anybody. Also, Ichigo is part of a tribe that moves it's entire village every other year called the Ryoka and not any Native American tribe that ever actually existed, so I'm taking much artistic liberties with his culture. Again, no offense is meant. Further, any and all derogatory names for Native Americans were used solely for the sake of the story because that's how most settlers actually thought of them (stupid as that was) and were only for realism.)

65. Owner

At the moment, Ichigo Kurosaki was wondering, a little absently, if he was a masochist. First Zaraki, the wolf, then Renji, the monkey, then Byakuya, the horned menace (a gazelle, to be exact), Hitsugaya the dragon, and Stark, another wolf, before finally settling on _this_ little nightmare. A goddamn _panther_. Not even a cub- cubs were manageable- this was a fully-grown MALE black panther. He was an endangered species for L'kik's sake, how the _fuck_ had be come to be found badly beaten and unconscious on the side of the road? With a sigh, Ichigo collapsed into a chair, one hand dragging slowly through his short-cropped hair. He had, years ago, given his name and number to the animal shelter near his dad's clinic and offered whatever services they would need; if they called, he would help. Somehow, after his success rehabilitating that wild wolf Zaraki and making him adoptable, his name had gotten passed around to every shelter and animal hospital in the city and now when they got an impossible case like Zaraki's or Hitsugaya they sent them to Ichigo. And Ichigo, of course, was a bit of a soft hearted sucker, so he never said 'no'. A little restless at the moment, because the moment that panther woke up he was going to be an aggressive, territorial pain in the ass, Ichigo had just decided to go work off his energy in the training room when he heard something that scared him to death every time. _"Master!"_ "Shit," he muttered, opening the door and letting the Bengal Tiger leap on him. Shirosaki, another rare and endangered species, had come to Ichigo on his own when he'd been jumped by slave traders and, though he'd managed to escape with his freedom, he had eight broken ribs, a fractured leg, a broken tail, and a torn-up arm that he had nearly lost to gangrene. It had been a minor miracle that he'd kept it.

He had, unfortunately, lost two fingers from his left hand and a chunk of muscle that hadn't quite grown back properly, making an oval indent that ran the length of his forearm. His worst injury wasn't he arm though- he'd suffered a hard, hard blow to the head that caused him to relapse back into kittenhood, when he'd been instructed by his mother that when he found someone he returned to even when beaten and bloody and bruised was someone he loved, and that would be his Master. He passed out during treatment, and when he woke up to Ichigo's concerned gaze he thought that meant Ichigo was his Master. Ichigo had patiently explained Shiro was a free man with no master at all, and cared for him diligently until he regained his memory and was healed enough to return to his home. Due to the permanent damage that had been inflicted Shiro occasionally relapsed again and would return to Ichigo's apartment door yelling for his Master at the top of his lungs, and every time Ichigo let him in and took care of him until the man regained his memory again. Closing the door again, Ichigo guided his friend to the couch and settled him there, hiccupping and sobbing. He stroked the soft ears, which flickered a little under the attention, and after a moment soft purring started fighting through the sobs until they stopped completely. When he was finally able to talk, Shiro looked up at him through teary golden eyes, the black around them making their tawny color stand out even more. "Master, M-Master…I've been _bad_. I was away from you, Master, I'm sorry!"

Ichigo sighed and hugged the hybrid to his chest, settling him so he could hear his heartbeat, which Shiro had always claimed calmed him. "It's okay, Shiro. What's the last thing you remember?" Sometimes his memory lapses would only lapse back to the last time he had regressed, but sometimes he would go back to a random time and be not only scared to be separated from his Master but confused as well. "We-we were making dinner, Master, an' ya were teachin' me t'sing…" Ichigo nodded- he'd have to play this off as when he had a 'blackout' to keep the poor man from totally freaking out. "Right, and I sent you out for more milk, do you remember? You must've had a blackout on the way to the store and forgotten." Shiro frowned but accepted this, sniffling a little. While he was in the middle of a regression, Ichigo couldn't tell him that what was happening so he referred to anything he couldn't remember as a 'blackout'. While not the best thing and he hated to lie, it suited his purpose- to soothe Shiro. After fifteen minutes more of reassurances that he was not mad and Shiro would not be punished, he got him settled and asleep on the couch. Straightening his back with several loud popping sounds and a sigh, he shoved one hand roughly into his hair. "I hope he gets his memory back soon," he muttered, "I enjoy his company and all but it's so creepy when he calls me Master. I'm too used to his true sarcastic, bitchy, rude personality." The hand in his hair coming down to pinch the bridge of his nose, he sighed again. "And I really, really hope he gets along with that panther."

Surprisingly, the next morning he woke quietly and undisturbed except for the mouthwatering smell of breakfast drifting through his little apartment. Between the coffee and the pancakes he could smell, the promise of good food drew him up and out of bed into the kitchen. It amazed him to see that both felines were eating peacefully at the table, and both perked when he walked in. "Mornin' King!" Ichigo laughed- the Bengal only called him 'King' when he was normal- and got himself some bacon and a few pancakes before drifting over to the coffee. "Good morning, Shiro. I take it you're feeling better?" The white man nodded, ears flicking happily. "Yep! By th'way, Grimmjow's one hell of a cat. Ya know he's a fighter?" Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. "That would explain the bruising, fractures, bleeding, and scars. How are you feeling today, Grimmjow?" The panther, licking some stray syrup off his hand, purred. Taking this as an answer (several of those he had worked with either did not know or refused to speak human tongues) the human sat down and dug into his food. Grimmjow stared at him for a moment, then meowed longingly, making Ichigo look up at him in surprise. Shiro chuckled and mewed something back, pushing the plate of bacon towards him and starting a flurry of conversation in Cat. Ichigo shrugged and went back to his meal.

Grimmjow, happily munching on the crunchy meat strips, swallowed and questioned the tiger again. _"Why didn't you wait for the Master to eat? I always got beat if I didn't wait for Master Aizen to finish first, and no food."_ The other cat snorted, finishing off the strange flat cakes on his plate. _"Ichigo-Master is different. He has to work for an odd human who makes him work at the strangest hours so he never knows when he'll be awake or asleep; he doesn't expect you or me to wait for him if he's been kept out all night and most of the morning because that wouldn't be fair. And though he never expects it, he always appreciates it when he finds a plate waiting for him in the fridge or the stove after he gets home. He told me once that it's nice to know someone cares about him."_ Around his bacon, Grimmjow frowned. _"Don't you live here all the time to take care of him?"_ Shiro shook his head. _"No, I have a different One, not Ichigo-Master, and he told me to go live and be happy with my Mate. I only visit sometimes to make sure he isn't starving himself on accident- he does that, you know. He'll come home so tired he just falls asleep on the floor and doesn't bother to eat. I tried to move back in, but he told me when he finds his One he'll be taken care of and in the meantime I ought to be with my One trying to get kittens."_ Grimmjow tilted his head. _"How do you know your One?"_ Shiro yawned. _"They smell amazing. The scent draws you in so you can't stay away from them- can't even keep your hands off them. You'd do anything to please them."_ The panther sniffed the white liquid in his glass that Shiro had called 'milk', and after flicking his tongue out to taste it decided it was possibly the best liquid he'd ever tasted. He gulped down the glass and licked his lips before answering. _"Ichigo-Master smells…good."_

Shiro nodded- Ichigo had always smelled good- and glanced at the man himself. _"Good enough that you think he's your One?"_ Grimmjow shrugged. _"Maybe. I'll see if he inspires me towards willing subservience. Am I allowed more milk?"_ Shiro got the jug and poured the other feline a second glass instead of answering. "Ya'll need more milk again soon, King. Grimmjow really likes it." Ichigo's reply came from around his fork. "I'll pick up some more next time I go out then." Grimmjow stared at him from over his half-drunk glass, eyebrows furrowing. _"He is very accommodating to a mere pet. Is he usually this kind or is it an exception because I'm injured?"_ The Bengal shook his head, tone fond. _"Yeah, he does this for everybody. It makes the strays feel bad about taking advantage of him so they start going to adoption agencies to look for owners, but he has no idea he's the entire reason lonely people looking for a nice pet are getting more and more strays off the street. It's kind of cute, actually. He would make a good owner, I think."_ That comment made Grimmjow go very, very still. _"He doesn't already own a pet? Not even __**one**__?"_ Shiro shook his head, and after a moment the panther rose and went to nuzzle Ichigo, who jolted a little under the unexpected attention and blushed bright red when the hybrid spoke his first word of English to him. "Owner." A second later, he added, "Mine." After that, Ichigo was blushing too hard to even respond.

66. Belong (more or less sequel to the Hybrid music drabble, written to "_Are You Happy_")

Ever since it had gotten out that Ichigo knew who his life-mate was but hadn't approached them, the rumors of who it was were running wild. It had to be a Neko- his entire family were lizards but for him, so he would've never changed from a lizard to a Neko unless it was to match his mate. However, the young man was reaching the time limit to approach his mate; that is, he was turning _back_ into a lizard again. Diamond-hard scales had already begun to sprout from his soft skin near his elbows, on his fingers and toes, and around his knees. His enticing cat ears were getting smaller by the day, and his tail had already turned fully scaled and was starting to thicken at the base into the whiplike tail lizards were known for. All in all, he was fast approaching the worst nightmare any of their kind could imagine- the fate of being mateless for the rest of his life, unless he found another who had given up on their mate to pair with. Even settling for a loveless union for the sake of children was a small nightmare in itself, one that very few survived. Worried for their friend, most of the group that loyally hung around Ichigo had started encouraging him to at least _try_; even if he was positive the other person wouldn't agree, it was better to try than to simply let his only chance at a happy future slip away from him.

During the noontime nap (there was a three-hour break from eleven to two during school to accommodate those hybrids whose natures required they sleep during daylight) Ichigo was on the roof, basking in the sun as he examined his hands. He had started to get protrusions that extended from each knuckle, his fingertips narrowing into even deadlier claws than he had possessed previously, and he could feel that the other teeth in his mouth were sharpening just like his canines. He would be fully back to being a lizard in a week, and lonely forever. He'd probably commit suicide after a couple years, five or ten at the absolute most. Curling up, he laid his chin on his hands and laid his tail along his side, the tip laying horizontally over his mouth. He had closed his eyes to soak up the sun when he heard the door open quietly, causing one ear to swivel towards the noise. He cracked open one eye to see who had decided to join the usual rooftop group, and was surprised to spy a particular aggressive panther hybrid picking his way delicately through the sleeping bodies towards Ichigo. When Grimmjow, one of the school's most notorious skirt-chasers and fighters, made it to the lizard-neko, he crouched down with a low growl. Ichigo raised his head and growled right back, though it was tainted with the dangerous rumble of a pissed-off predator. His animals were all mixed up so he had two voices as a result when he made an animal noise. Grimmjow hissed under his breath, quiet so as not to wake the hybrids sleeping peacefully all around them. "Why, you stubborn jackass? Why won't…?"

"Because I'll throw myself off this goddamn roof when you say _no_," Ichigo hissed furiously back, "I'm a Solitary, you bastard! I couldn't live through rejection!" That made Grimmjow draw back in shock, his tail bristling with alarm. Very few were unlucky enough to have only _one_ life-mate, usually having at least two to choose from, and if a Solitary was rejected by that one mate they would immediately and unhesitatingly resort to suicide. It was, in some twisted way, an attempt to make the mate happier by removing themselves as a threat to any of the mate's other prospects. Grimmjow himself had five possibilities, and when he had noted that Ichigo's scent held that unusual sweetness he had discarded it as unimportant until he'd started to change. He'd never, _ever_ known a hybrid could change back to their original species after changing to suit their mate at the start of puberty. Overwhelmed by the thoughts of his impending death, Ichigo buried his face in his hands and tried to hide the tears. Grimmjow hesitantly went to comfort him, but at the first touch Ichigo jerked back with a warning hiss. "Don't touch- I won't be able to stop myself. Just- just don't." Clutching his own hand close to his chest, Grimmjow was a little torn. He didn't particularly want to murder the young man in front of him, but he didn't want to watch him spiral slowly into depression, loneliness, and suicide either. At the same time, he had always preferred females to males, and if he accepted Ichigo to keep the boy alive he would be stuck with him for life.

"Don't concern yourself with me, Jaggerjack. I've never belonged anyway. I'll manage." As the lizard-neko dug his claws into the stone and climbed down the side of the building, Grimmjow couldn't help staring after him and wishing that the younger male hadn't sounded nearly so sure of himself nor so resigned when he said he'd never belonged.

67. Meow

Grimmjow thought that this might possibly be _the most_ humiliating thing he had ever had to endure. When Ichigo had finally gotten fed up with Soul Society's mistreatment of him and defected, bringing _seven_ (Fifth, Third, Ninth, Eleventh, Thirteenth, Fourth, and Sixth) entire divisions with him, he had immediately allowed himself to transform into an Arrancar and was named the Cero Espada. Now, as a…'present' to their new comrade and a punishment for Grimmjow (he'd mouthed off to Tousen again; ever since the man had mysteriously gotten pregnant his moods were entirely unpredictable and even a random comment could set him off at this point) the panther had been injected with something from Szayel to make him Kurosaki's temporary 'pet'. Whatever that concoction had been, Grimmjow now automatically obeyed any order he was given and couldn't speak except in meows, mews, hisses, purrs, and growls. Collared and leashed at the foot of Ichigo's bed, he couldn't help grumbling and hoped against hope that the man wouldn't abuse his newfound power. He already outranked him to the nth degree- taking advantage of this humiliation would be even worse. He heard the door open and quick, angry footsteps approaching, and then suddenly they stopped. He looked up to see Ichigo in the doorway to the bedroom, his eyes wide. After a moment, his lids dropped to half-mast and his tail began to flick from side to side angrily as he stomped over to where the leash had been tied and proceeded to first untie the knot and then unclip it from Grimmjow's collar. Tossing the long leather leash carelessly onto his table, his lip had curled as he growled.

"'Surprise waiting in my room' indeed. I suppose they mean me to humiliate you further by using your body for my own pleasures, sick fucks. One of these days they'll understand I don't condone such things." Grimmjow tried to express his confusion and gratitude, but only managed some rather pathetic-sounding mewls and one semi-demanding meow. Ichigo sighed, raking a hand through his own hair. "As I grew up human, I live by some of the most basic human laws; one of the most important of those is to never force another to share your bed unwillingly. Thus, anyone I bed is with me of their own free will." Grimmjow tilted his head, not quite understanding- was it a matter of pride? Did he want it willing as a matter of not _needing_ force to get what he wanted? Hollows simply _took_ what they wanted if they were strong enough to do so, and contrived to get what they wanted if they were too weak. He chirped in question (at least, it sounded vaguely like a chirp as it was such a short, sharp sound). Ichigo only shrugged uncomfortably and started fiddling with the collar, trying to see if he could get it off. "Call it pride, call it chivalry, call it respect for another living creature, whatever way you want to look at it, I cannot stomach rape." 'Rape'. It sounded like such a harsh, cruel word. It sounded…vicious. Curling his tail around his thighs, Grimmjow felt his ears slicking back to escape that brutal, unfamiliar word, and scowled down at the bone armor that covered his body. He'd lost his ability to seal his release form when he'd been injected and was stuck this way for now, probably to drive home the situation of him being a 'pet'.

Finding no way to undo the collar without it's key (which was safely in the hands of Aizen and would stay right where it was until he decided that punishment was over) Ichigo stood from his crouch and popped his back with his clawed hands. "Well, I need a shower. Feel free to do whatever you like, Grimmjow. I'll be back soon." When he suddenly realized he no longer felt compelled to kneel on the floor and wait for orders, Grimmjow realized Ichigo _had_ given him an order- to do what he wanted. To act normal. Tired after a long day of humiliating orders that he could not disobey, he eyed the bed for a moment, decided it was big enough that Ichigo could get in if he wanted even with another body in it, and then proceeded to curl up under the covers. He woke up partially when another body slid in next to his and curled around him protectively, but he dropped to sleep immediately afterward. He woke up more fully some odd hours later, beginning to whine and whimper as he got suddenly overheated and started to feel his skin crawl. Those damned side effects were kicking in! Struggling to get out of Ichigo's protective hold, he stilled when he heard a dominant growl behind him that was essentially an order to settle down. He did, as best he could, but he couldn't help the twitches, whines, or occasional muscle spasms and after a few more minutes of his restlessness he felt his body being pulled on top of the younger man's. "Mew?" Ichigo snorted. "Mrrrow." Grimmjow felt his ears perk and he blushed deeply- Ichigo could speak his language? "Rrr-aow."

With a yawn, Ichigo licked his lips, including the teeth on what was left of his Hollow mask, before answering. "Mrrrmmm. Me-ew!" Grimmjow blushed darker and hesitantly began to disrobe the man under him. "Nyah? Mroooa." Ichigo stretched out beneath him, gently slid his jacket off and tossed it to the floor. "Mrroah. Nnnyah mew-l."

"_MEEE~YOOWWW!"_

That night, nearly every feline in Los Noches heard the roar of a panther claiming it's mate twined so closely with a lizard's hoarse scream that those who could understand either tongue couldn't say whose names were screamed.

A week later, Grimmjow's collar was removed because it was deemed unnecessary in light of the slowly-healing mating bite on his left shoulder; his mate would easily keep him in line.

68. Submission (Warning- DARK! Mentions of rape and mental disturbance!)

He knew that smell. He knew it like he knew his own scent, like he knew the scent of blood, like he knew the scent of his birth-mother. But it had been corrupted somehow, twisted into something almost entirely different and unrecognizable. He wasn't sure what, exactly, had happened, but he was damn well _going to find out._ He didn't like it- it made his hair stand on end and his lips pull back to bare his teeth, his eyes burning with anger and possessive protective instinct. Something had fucked up his prey, _his goddamn PREY_, and he wasn't going to tolerate that. He'd hunt down those worthless weaklings that dared to touch what was his and he'd rip 'em apart- but first…first he needed to tend to his prey. He had to set things right with what was his. Tracking the scent back to it's source, he noticed that the closer he got the more disturbing the scent became- almost like it was rotting and fouling from second to second. He found his target slumped in an alleyway, a pool of stank, rotten blood spread across the concrete below him and the bricks around him. He'd been there at least…Grimmjow's nose wrinkled, at least a day and a half. He was covered in bruises and cuts, signs of a recent fight, but that wasn't the issue. The _issue_ was what else was hovering in the befouled air. Dark lust, tears, blood, fear, insane glee, pain, twisted pleasure, and the disgusting scent of sick satisfaction, he could smell it all in that little four-foot space. It was fresh. He knew that scent, too, better than he cared to admit since his own room had reeked of it for weeks until he'd become Espada.

He bent down to retrieve the unmoving body of his target, but as soon as he touched the wounded male the body jerked and shuddered, new fear-scent drenching the air but laced with something he'd never wanted from his prey. Submission. He knew he was too hurt to stand, much less fight, so even though he didn't want to be touched, didn't want to be hurt and forced again, he also felt he didn't have a choice and was submitting to the stronger force. It wasn't good that the boy was conscious still- if he'd been able to pass out then maybe he would've been less traumatized by the rape. Gathering the softly whimpering prey in his arms, he soothed the tensed young man as best he could with soft rumbles deep in his chest. He couldn't purr to reassure him, he was _far_ too angry right now, so a gentle growl would have to do. And Ichigo Kurosaki, still submissive and frightened (and not quite sure what was going on, as he'd needed to remove his mind from his body to endure the horror of being raped repeatedly by five different, very large men) held on hard to the lapels of Grimmjow's jacket until he was forcibly taken from him by Urahara and Orihime for healing.

69. Tails (inspired by the picture titled "Finally Found You…" by BlackStorm on , full props to Storm for the wonderful artwork!)

He'd seen the human often. More often than other humans…even the ones that appeared to be from his pod (though Szayel swore they called it a 'family', which was the stupidest name for a pod he'd ever heard). He was memorable, one of the few vibrantly colored humans, an attractive orange that drew one to him. Any respectable merfolk knew damn well that the more vibrant, the more strong and intelligent and the _better_ somebody was, and vibrant orange was passion and _life_ in its purest form. The Pacific hadn't seen a vibrant orange anything in centuries- why did the _humans_ have to lay claim to one so perfect? Grimmjow, a vibrant blue with a mane nearly the color of the sky on a sunny day, lamented this every time he saw that particular human. The best orange they'd seen recently had been a dull orange-red that had been so dark and dead-looking that it was the color of blood that wept from an infected wound. Worse, he was beginning to think he pined after that particular human. His scales were turning darker like others who pined for a mate that had died or rejected them, even if it was just a tiny change in shade, he could tell. His chances of finding a mate were already slim, but if he turned dark and dull he'd _never_ find one. Blues like himself were renowned for their violent and possessive natures, though if they found their Destined they also became fiercely loving and protective. As it was rare for a blue, or any merperson, to find their Destined, it was thus very hard for a blue to find a mate willing to put up with his or her violence and possessiveness, which could sometimes lead to isolation of the mate and random outbursts.

Surfacing just enough to see the shore, as he often did, he was surprised to see his human- err, _the_ human- on the beach and tossing a large, sharp-looking knife from hand to hand with a deeper scowl than usual. The boy never stopped scowling, not really, but this one seemed to have an edge to it that made warning bells start going off in Grimmjow's head. He didn't like that expression on that face, not at _ALL_. It made him think of how warriors must've looked going into battle when the different tribes of the Seven Seas had been at war before finally being united as one people under King Starrk. The blade began to twist and twirl in the air between hands, and his heart stopped because every time he was positive it was going to impale the hand it was headed for only for the handle to flip around just in time to be caught. It spun like a conch shell, like a…a…that one human tool that forced through things like an auger but it was a machine and went much faster- a drill! Finally, the human caught it and threw it into the sand, hard enough to sink it in down to the hilt. The metal blade itself was nearly as long as Grimmjow's hand, so that was a rather hard throw. Crouching down into the sand, his muscles bunching and writhing beneath his skin impressively, his head bowed and his hands sank into the mass and yanked at it. Grimmjow recognized that expression- it was one of wordless pain, grief, and confusion. It was how you reacted when you'd seen a relative die, or when something horrible beyond comprehension had happened and you just couldn't make yourself accept it. The merman wondered, his stomach flipping, if the human was contemplating suicide. What horror could make a bright orange lose his zest for life?

A flick of his strong tail brought him closer to shore, nearly beaching him in the shallows and he knew his body would be highly visible in the clear, sun-kissed water, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He _needed_ to touch that boy, convince him to keep living, prove he wasn't an apparition on the wind before the human was gone for good. Humans were mortal and not immortal like merfolk, after all. Abruptly, the young male planted both hands on the sand to steady his crouched form and he looked up, eye-to-eye with Grimmjow and a snarl on his lips, his pupils pinpricks in a sea of deadly tawny. He obviously wasn't seeing Grimmjow or the beach, but something else, something horrible. Grimmjow decided he really, _really_ didn't like that look on his human and splashed him to wake him from his waking terror. The teen shook his body like a wet dog, spluttering and spitting out curses, and Grimmjow couldn't help laughing at the other's absolutely dumbfounded expression. Apparently, his pod and other companions weren't prone to such measures nor playfulness with him. Raising an eyebrow, he watched the human look him over, head to tail-tip, and fluttered the base of his tail fin in the water to make it swirl prettily (though traditionally used as a move to attract the attention of a potential mate, in this case he told himself he just wanted to see the expression of shock and surprise in the human's eyes). He hadn't been expecting the slow smile that overtook the human's scowl or the tawny softening into a welcoming honey color. He'd only seen honey once, when some humans had brought some to a beach picnic, but he remembered it clearly.

"I always thought I'd seen you out there, hiding between the waves," he said softly, "but you disappeared so quickly, I could never be sure. It's good to know I'm not as insane as they want me to think I am." Grimmjow blinked a few times confusedly, then scowled as hard as the human usually did, eyebrows snapping together angrily. "Why in the hell would they _wanna_ make ya think yer crazy? Ain't bein' crazy bad fer humans?" The orange-haired male laughed, and it was a sound so beautiful Grimmjow could feel it rippling over his skin like the purest waters of the Antarctic. "I can see the spirits of the dead, but other than my family, nobody believes me. They want to throw me into an insane asylum to 'cure' me so they're trying to make me think I'm crazy so I'll let them commit me." Grimmjow scowled. "Oranges don't do well in cages, everybody knows that! Are they _trying_ to kill you? You would do better in open water and alone." Reaching forward to thread his fingers though the blue hair, his human smiled again, but it was sad. "Humans are stupid. They think anyone can survive and live happily in a cage, as long as they don't tell them it's a cage. They think I'm stupid. And there's one bastard, Aizen…he wants me broken. Broken, insane, medicated to within an inch of my life, and easy to control." Grimmjow's mouth opened without his permission. "I oughta take ya inta the water with me. It don't seem the humans ya been with 're any good fer ya."

"Humans drown underwater," the boy reminded him bluntly, a slight chuckle in his voice. Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably, very aware that he would have to be careful with what he said next or he'd scare the human away. "There's something, some sort of spell of potion, that I've heard can make a human into a merperson or a merman into a human. It's…really, really expensive though, an' I think ya can only take it once. If ya try t'take it again ta change ya back, it poisons and kills ya. 'Course, that's just what I've heard…" His tail flicked and he blinked. "Aw shit, I just realized- we don't even know each other's names. I'm Grimmjow." The human tugged a little on the hair he still held as he pulled his hand free. "I'm Ichigo. Pleasure to meet ya." Ichigo stuck out his hand, and Grimmjow stared at it for a moment or two before remembering that humans shook hands sometimes and then gingerly taking the offered hand to give it a firm shake. Funny custom, but he supposed they had to do something other than touching tails seeing as they didn't _have_ tails. Curious about his human, his Ichigo, he decided to start asking questions. They questioned and quizzed each other for hours, learning as much as they could about the world of the other straight up until the sun set. They had to separate then, as Grimmjow's pod would be looking for him and Ichigo said he had to run. From what, the merman didn't know, but he was reluctant to ask. There were certain subjects that Ichigo danced around, like when Grimmjow could see him again or why Aizen wanted him hurt and subjugated.

Strangely, Grimmjow did not see Ichigo again for many moons. Usually no more than a quarter-moon passed between his visits to the water, so this worried him. He checked the beach every day, faithfully awaiting his human friend's return, and it came only after almost twelve moons and the seasons had cycled all the way through fall and winter and spring back to summer. His scales had darkened from their original ice-blue to a deep navy, to his supreme humiliation, but seeing long sunset-orange hair made him perk for the first time since he had watched his Ichigo walk away from the shore. "Ichigo!" He resisted adding 'mate' to the name; he hadn't even expressed his interest yet so that would be highly inappropriate. The man smiled, though he didn't look nearly as good as he had last year. "Hi, Grimmjow. Your color changed- what happened? Did your mate die?" Grimmjow winced. "No, no, he just left for a long time. I haven't proposed yet…hell, I ain't even told him I think he's my Destined yet. Enough about my not-even-almost-mate, what happened to _you_? I've never seen your ribs like I do now, and you're taller but not broader like you should be from growing." Ichigo waved dismissively. "A year in an institution will do that to you. They hardly ever feed you there, at least not enough to fatten you up. You were right, by the way, I'd be much, much better off in open water alone. Drowning would be much nicer than the things they did to me in that place." Grimmjow shivered, despite the warmth of the water and the air. He did not want his Ichigo to die.

"Please don't drown." Good Poseidon, did that whimper just come out of _his_ mouth? From Ichigo's raised eyebrows, it had. "I don't want to lose my Destined for good." And had he just admitted that Ichigo was his Destined without any warning? The slow smile curling Ichigo's lips said that he had done exactly that. A little alarmed by the hungry look on his face, Grimmjow backed up some but it was hard to do in the shallows and Ichigo just followed, getting closer and closer to him. Were the legends true and humans really _did_ eat mermen that had dared to come to shore? A hand slid into the back of his long hair, Ichigo dropping to his knees in the shallow water and bringing their mouths together. Unfamiliar with this…practice, he didn't even know the name for this thing they were doing, Grimmjow grabbed onto his human for dear life as _stars_ exploded in his head, behind his eyes and blotted out his vision like he'd been caught in a fast current and slammed his head hard on a rock. Ichigo's _tongue_ was in his _mouth_ he and could _taste_ and _feel_ EVERYTHING and he was so, so glad his gills were still submerged so he could use them to gasp for breath without needing to break apart from this wonderful bursting-open type of pleasure. The teen didn't release him until almost five minutes later, when both of them were thoroughly breathless. He couldn't stop licking his lips- he could taste the human there, everything he'd ever wanted and dreamed of, and it was arousing him beyond belief. "Wh…" _lick._ "Whaddya call that?" Ichigo grinned, hands still buried in his sky-blue mane. "A kiss. That's called 'kissing'. Specifically, French kissing because tongue was involved." Grimmjow growled and wrapped his hands around Ichigo's shoulders from the back, using the reverse-grip to haul his body up and closer to the human and ignoring it when his biceps brushed the other's armpits. "I want more of that."

Ichigo helped to support his body weight, one hand skimming down his back to grab on just below where his waist and tail met and pulling forward to transfer his balance while the other hand fastened to the back of his neck while the orange-haired male licked at the merman's tanned skin. "Do you want more kissing, Grimmjow, or do you want… _more_?" The fishtailed man's mind flashed back to the day almost a year ago that Ichigo had explained human mating and how the bodies came together; he felt something in his belly clench. "_More_, Ichigo, more of you, I want it all." Ichigo smiled down at him, then his second hand joined the first at his waist area and ran a thumb over where flesh and scale met, sending jolts through his entire body and making him feel oddly hot all over. "Then you'll have it all. But first you'll need to let go of my shoulders so I can get my clothes off." The merman complied immediately, watching with his chin propped on his crossed arms while his human discarded his 'clothes'. It was surprisingly enticing to watch his Destined bare himself for him in more than the emotional sense, considering he thought clothes entirely unnecessary in the first place. Still, he admitted it made him hotter to watch his mate peel them from his lithe, muscled form and drop them carelessly to the sand.

The hotter he got, the more he was starting to notice a vague itch on his tail, just a little ways down from where his muscled abdomen faded into his tail on the front, perhaps half a hand's width. Originally he had guessed he had sand in his scales, but this was almost starting to distract him from watching Ichigo and it was getting worse. He completely forgot about the itch in the next two seconds, however, when Ichigo came back to him naked as the day he was born, turning him on his back to straddle his powerful hips. Ichigo's dick was just as healthy a peach as the rest of his glowing skin, dripping clear fluid and the head was very, very red. Grimmjow hoped that meant they were equally aroused. Their lower bodies submerged in the water, Grimmjow had a stray thought that he hoped he didn't get sand in his gills before Ichigo's mouth and more, his _hands_ came down upon him and as he kissed Grimmjow to within an inch of his life, hands roaming everywhere, and after that the merman couldn't think at all except to touch back. Once mouths started roaming after the hands, Grimmjow was driven to absolute distraction by that wicked mouth and those teeth and that _tongue_ that just had to be illegal somewhere; he kissed and licked and bit and sucked at the one above him just the same to keep the boy just as hot and bothered as himself. The human was sucking at one nipple and was tweaking the other one with his fingers when something happened that made Grimmjow gasp loudly and clutch his Destined to him for dear life, body arching uncontrollably.

The place where the itch had been suddenly turned cold and wet, and in seconds he realized what it was- his _opening_. Everything you needed to know about a merman could be told in the tail, depending on color and fins and scale shape and tail shape and the like; Grimmjow had the distinctive extra tail fin where the human 'butt' was that marked him as a Bearer. A Bearer was, as the name implied, able to bear young, and all of them had an opening in their tail that would allow them to become pregnant. The opening would not open, however, unless one of two needs were met- they came into contact with their Destined and became mated to them, or they became unbearably aroused. In this case, his Destined was making him unbearably aroused while preparing to mate him, so there was really no way he _couldn't_ open up to receive his mate. The water had rushed in and startled him, and now Ichigo was exploring the smooth opening in his scales with his fingers curiously, making him shudder and hold him tighter. He was making sounds he didn't even know he could make as the warm fingers stroked and probed his insides, and he could feel his body getting hotter with every second until he arched again with a scream and his belly tightened and convulsed. Ichigo's expression turned delighted and he sank his two fingers in to the last knuckle, prolonging what had to be Grimmjow's first orgasm (he'd heard about it from his mated friends, but he'd never believed them when they said it was like fireworks in their hip region- now that'd he'd had one he had to say that was quite an understatement) as he murmured against his cheek. "You've gotten all slick inside."

Grimmjow didn't have anything to say to that, only blushing deeply and nodding a little, feeling his opening squirm and clamp down on the invading digits. He was aroused to the point where he couldn't actually speak anymore and he wanted Ichigo to join with him. He wanted it so bad it _ached_. He let out a low cry that demanded his mate take him, _rightthefucknow_, and he was not disappointed. It took only a moment and he was suddenly full of hot, hard flesh, head slamming back as he actually screamed with ecstasy. Holding tightly to his Destined as hard as he could, he whimpered as he adjusted to the feeling of stretching open around that burning intrusion inside him. It wasn't really a bad feeling- just very, very different. And it was hot, it was so hot and hard and long and thick and it _hurt_ but it hurt _so fucking good_. He had never really wanted a child, never really cared if he ever conceived one, but right now he wanted with all his being to bear this man a babe. And he'd never manage unless he was filled with that fertilizer, which meant Ichigo would have to move. He was almost scared to ask for such a thing, though. He feared he might go delirious with pleasure. After a few more moments of shuddering, clenching, and whining, Ichigo murmured in his ear. "You okay?" Grimmjow nodded- he was fan-_fucking_-tastic right now and did not want his mate to withdraw- and his human chuckled, hot breath rolling down the merman's neck. "Good, 'cuz I can't stand not moving anymore." Grimmjow's eyes went wide but he didn't have any time to respond before Ichigo _moved_ and he couldn't help it this time- he _sang_. Siren's Song is supposed to be the most deadly of songs that can be heard by the human male, however, the uncontrollable, instinctual call of a Mersong was far, far stronger and a thousand times more deadly. The Song would attract only one person, but with all the force of the magic of the merfolk; it called your mate to you with such strength that half the time they killed themselves on the way. Humans drowned themselves, and merfolk would swim themselves to death, not stopping to eat, rest, or sleep until they found what they sought.

In this case, Grimmjow's mate was already beside him, _inside him_, so while it was not particularly dangerous it would drive Ichigo to officially Bond him and Mark him in his passion. This was Grimmjow's greatest desire, of course, but it felt wrong to basically force Ichigo to Bond him- Bonding sounded a bit like human 'marriage' except since you could only Bond with your Destined mate there was no 'divorce'. Once you were Bonded, you shared your life (literally, combining your life spans) with your Mate. Now, all this guilt and feeling of wrongness only lasted a split second after he sang, because Ichigo gave a particularly hard, deep thrust and wiped his mind blank of all but the pleasure again. Clinging as tightly to his mate as he was, and beginning to undulate his tail and hips for more friction (because goddamn it, it all felt so amazing but something in his secretions made him _itch_ and only going faster seemed to soothe it), he couldn't miss when Ichigo moved his mouth from the sensitive spot behind his ear to his jaw, his pupils dilated as he snarled breathlessly, _"Mine."_ Instinct compelled him to answer. "Yours," he agreed on a gasp, his entire body shuddering when Ichigo knocked against something inside him that send those stars exploding behind his eyes again. Sucking, licking, and nipping his way over Grimmjow's jaw, neck, and upper chest, Ichigo growled again, a note of insistency in his tone, _"Mine."_ A little confused, Grimmjow agreed again, "Yours." His mate nipped a little harder, then gave the side of his neck a hard suck that somehow made his body shiver and clench tighter around him. "Mine," he said again, something pleading in his voice now, and finally the merman understood. "Mine!"

A wide smile curled the human's lips that Grimmjow could feel against his skin. "Yours," he purred, slowing his previous pace so he could thrust deeper, which hit that spot again that had Grimmjow almost in convulsions, over and over again with every thrust. He could feel his inner muscles fluttering around the hot flesh in him, and when he came again he clamped down so hard Ichigo could no longer move and stayed, lodged deep in him. His hand skimmed down his human's spine to grab his ass, and his fingers slipped into the crack and pressed something his found there- a opening like his own, it felt like. It seemed the unexpected pressure was all it took to bring Ichigo to his limit and he let out a strange sound the blunet couldn't identify, shuddering and shaking and growling and gripping his mate to him so hard he left bruises. As Grimmjow reveled in feeling the wet heat fill his insides, he sank his teeth into the bare shoulder above him and felt answering teeth in his own. He felt the child take, _felt_ his pregnancy start, and purred contentedly. He opened his eyes when he heard an exclamation of surprise, and found something he'd never expected- Ichigo's legs had disappeared in a whirl of tanned skin and he now had a tail! Orange, it was triple-toned with red and yellow markings; the most royal of royal tails, and this was his mate! Ichigo looked a little surprised, but not dismayed or alarmed, so Grimmjow took it as a positive sign and started dragging him into deeper waters. When questioned, he gave his mate a wild grin and groped the front of his tail where he knew the male's penile slit was hiding. Ichigo also had the Bearer's Fin, but Grimmjow could explore those delicious possibilities later, right now he wanted something else. "You've showed me how a human mates, beloved, and now I'll show you how merfolk do it." After all, everything important about a merperson involved the tail, so he needed to get Ichigo used to his.

70. Child

Ichigo was a quiet child, prone to hiding behind his mother's skirts both outside and inside the house, doe-eyed and shy beyond shy despite being nearly seven. Though he no longer sucked his thumb, he would chew on his knuckles to keep his mouth occupied so he didn't have to talk. As shy as he was, he loved going to the park with his mom just to watch, insisting that he didn't need to play. Masaki could tell he wanted to, but since other kids always made fun of his hair he never dared try to contact them directly. One day, watching the others, he was surprised when the skirt fabric he was hiding behind (he rarely left their protection while outside the house) rustled and moved before a head of bright blue hair popped out directly into his vision. Startled, he feel backwards onto his butt with a squeak of surprise, eyes wide and his hand out of his mouth for once. The other boy, who looked to be around Ichigo's age, watched him cautiously. "Ya 'kay?" The smaller boy, eyes still taking up half his face, nodded quietly, raising his hand to his mouth so he could start chewing the base knuckles of his hand, breaking the skin almost immediately. The newcomer tilted his head to the side, obviously confused by Ichigo's silence, and came forward to crouch in front of the other boy. "I'm Grimmjow," he said warily, "I saw yer hair an' wanted t'come meet ya." Ichigo tilted his head as well, giving his mother a quick glance before letting his knuckle out from between his teeth. "I's Ichigo," he murmured quietly, reaching up to hesitantly pat the bright sky-blue mane of the other. "Ya gots purdy hair, like th'sky." He seemed like he wanted to say something more, but instead just put his red, swollen knuckle back in his mouth. Grimmjow, being a very proud boy, was a little offended that Ichigo though he was 'pretty' instead of 'cool' or 'handsome' like his Ma and Pa, but he'd figured out Ichigo couldn't talk very good so he let it go.

"Yers is warm, like a sunset. I like it." Ichigo blushed darkly, then mumbled around his knuckle, "I like yers too." Grimmjow grinned at the cute little boy, taking one of his hands to pull him up. "Cummon, I wan' ya ta meet my Ma." Three hours later Grimmjow had become extremely fond of the silent companion he had already vowed to speak for since the boy hated to talk himself and was practically glued to the smaller male's side. He had also announced to both his mother and Ichigo's that when they grew up he was "gonna marry his Ichi", which no matter what arguments they made, neither adult could dissuade him from. Ichigo, when questioned, actually took his hand out of his mouth and announced in a completely deadpan tone, "I'mma marry Grim." That tone brooked no argument and both women resolved to give up until the pair had grown up a little more. They were just children after all, they couldn't know the seriousness of getting married.


	9. numbers 71 to 80

71. Morning

There was nothing Grimmjow enjoyed more than watching the baby shinigami wake up. The kid was so innocent, it was unbelievable- he always woke up slowly, blocking an attack from his sire (humans called it a 'father') before rolling over and stretching luxuriously and waking himself a little at a time. He never even bothered to sense the surrounding area for threats, and it fascinated Grimmjow how defenseless Kurosaki was when he woke up. It wasn't anything like how Hollows slept, always alert and with one eye open, and that intrigued Grimmjow. He became a regular at Ichigo's house around six, just watching the human's morning routine.

Hips (a prequel to Gargoyle)

The day Ichigo had come stomping up into the aerie with his mane literally bristling from discomfort and outrage, none of the Clan was quite brave enough to approach him. He was the strongest warrior among their ranks, and none dared approach him when his temper was so foul but for the Leader and Second-In-Command. In one of the middle generations, he would never harm the children of his rookery sisters and brothers (he had no mate and thus none of the eggs had been _his_, though by Clan reckoning children belong to the whole of the clan and he was by that reckoning as much their father as any of his rookery brothers) but he was intimidating, even for a Gargoyle. Though his body was sinewy and lean, lithe and incredibly flexible, his talons and claws were large and strong, his tail thick and whiplike and his horns hard, heavy, and sharp where the points swept outward from his cheekbones, similar to the horns of a longhorn steer. His muscles were not the gentle ones of his siblings- even the red-maned rookery brother that sparred with Ichigo most often were not as pronounced as those of the orange-maned male. Clambering up the side of the castle's first defensive wall, the warrior's jaw was set in that particular way that meant anyone that approached him, Gargoyle or not, could expect to be verbally and quite possibly physically ripped to pieces. Upon reaching the top of the parapets, he threw back his head and roared a battle cry, his wings unfurling with a sharp snapping sound before he leapt into the open air and caught an updraft, darting away like a devil was on his heels.

Nursing a clawed cheek, bitten hand, and dislocated shoulder, Grimmjow had been very, very confused as he ascended to the aerie after Ichigo, and after watching him glide off, he turned to the red-haired rookery brother that looked almost as confused as he felt. "What the hell didja do t'him? He usually wouldn' harm a human for th'life of 'im," the large Gargoyle said softly, "an' 'specially not you. Yer the human he likes an' trusts th'most." The blue-haired man scratched his head with his good hand. "I guess I musta insulted 'im- I din't mean ta, but I _musta_. Where I came from, ya compliment people all th'time, even if ya don't like 'em, ta be polite. The more personal an' thoughtful compliments, however, are saved fer close friends an' people yer close to, like how Ichigo is to me. When I talked to th'Mage after Ichigo worked me over, he said tha' personal comments are insulting…woulda been nice t'know that _before_ I commented offhand that I think Ichigo's got nice hips." The tribal-marked Gargoyle tilted his head in confusion. "That kinda comment is insulting, but what I wanna know is why you'd think it in the first place." Grimmjow pressed a hand to his cheek to stem the mild bleeding and winced. "He likes usin' his tail 'cuz it makes such a good weapon, and because of that an' his height that makes his hips the center of 'is power. If yer watchin' his hips close enough, ya can almost predict what he'll do an' react to it in time. When I figured that out, I started spendin' a lot of sparrin' time watchin' his hips move, an' after a couple weeks I started noticin' they're pretty nice hips. Stare at anythin' long enough an' ya start noticin' all the little details. Ichigo's hips are strong and heavy, bu' they're also graceful and sorta pretty, like the way women's are after they get married an' actually start usin' those muscles."

His blue brows drew together then, mouth twisting downward in a frown. "Hey, do ya think maybe he was so pissed 'cuz he thought I was sayin' I thought his hips were girly an' thus insultin' him by sayin' he looks like a girl?" Tapping his tail thoughtfully, the gray-skinned Gargoyle stroked his neck with the back of a talon. "Yeah, probably. When we were hatchlings, he was one of the scrawniest of our brood, and even the elders sometimes mistook him for one of the females. Even after he grew to be so big and powerful, he's real sensitive about that sorta thing and takes offense at any comment that even _might_ imply him looking like a female." Nodding, Grimmjow looked at the sky to measure how close it was to dawn. Too close- by the time Ichigo got back, he'd immediately have to take his place to sleep. With a sigh, the guardsman turned to descend the steps. "I'll be back at dusk t'apologize, since it looks like he'll be stone s'fast I can't do it tanight." He made his way towards the infirmary, damning his own preferences for males that had made him open his mouth to say that comment about his best friends' and Gargoyle protectorates' all-too-beautiful body. It also probably didn't help that he'd called those hips 'pretty' and 'perfect sized'.

72. Sting (Romance Universe, sequel to Promise)

Grimmjow couldn't say he hadn't expected it. He deserved it, certainly. He just hadn't quite expected it coming from his _son_ rather than his former lover. He had to admit though, he'd really prefer to have been belted one in the face- being slapped _stung_ and _burned_. It had taken him forty hours of driving back roads with no sleep to even find someone willing to talk to him about Ichigo, and another two days to convince somebody to tell him where the doctor lived. Another three days to drum up the courage to actually face the man he'd let go, and at last he'd arrived, only to find out he had a bastard son who had become the adopted son of his former lover and this adopted son was every bit as possessive and protective as Grimmjow himself. Knocked onto his ass on the doorstep of Ichigo's house (his kid had an _arm_ on him), the blue-haired rock star didn't even try to get up, shoulders slumped. Wincing, he frowned up at the teenager and blinked. "I _know_ I don't deserve ta even see 'im. I just wanted t'say sorry…an' a whole lotta other things, but mainly sorry." Cerulean blue eyes just like his own stared back at him, the lip underneath the chiseled nose curled in contempt. "Do you even know what the fuck you did you him you son of a bitch? He _screams_ at night still. Since I've been living with him, I have never known a night when he didn't have nightmares except when he's drunk off his ass. And it's _your fucking fault_. You'll only hurt him more if he sees you or talks to you or even hears you were here, so I'm keeping you the fuck away from him." Grimmjow felt something in his chest go tight. He couldn't imagine Ichigo, his Ichigo, screaming in pain or fear in his sleep from the memories, but he believed this punk when he said it.

He finally rose, dusting off the seat of his pants. "I'm a fuckin' idiot, but I'm a fuckin' idiot who's still in love with the man he pushed away. At least lemme beg fer his forgiveness." The kid- Jackal?- pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. "He'll forgive ya. He always forgives; an' that's the problem! Ya don't deserve forgiveness from him!" Grimmjow wanted to argue, but found he had nothing to combat that statement because quite frankly, it was absolutely true. He was a complete bastard and didn't deserve forgiveness- but he selfishly wanted it anyway. Of course, when he said this out loud he was promptly chased off with a shotgun, making him feel like a teenage boy returning his first date back to her house an hour after curfew. He found himself in a bar after that, but he didn't even get a chance to order before he was back on the floor, on his ass, his already red cheek stinging all over again. "How _dare you_," seethed the man above him, an unfamiliar red-head, "how _dare_ you even show your face anywhere Ichigo could see you!" "Stop it, Renji," Grimmjow's heart stopped at that familiar voice, "it's not his fault. He always goes drinking when he feels overwhelmed. Something must've happened with the band." The rock start swallowed hard, braced himself, and looked. There he was, in all his careworn glory. He had lines around his mouth and around his eyes that Grimmjow never thought he'd see, stress lines with not a laugh line in sight. His voice had a smoker's rasp, though no cough, and eyes he had always remembered as soft and welcoming were hard and distant. They were also tinged with pain right at this moment, and the blue-haired man felt his heart twist. _He_ had caused that pain.

That stung more than anything else. "I'm sorry." Oh shit, ohshit his mouth was starting to run without his permission, verbal vomit he couldn't control like a milder version of Tourrette's. "I've missed you so much and ever single day I can't stop kicking myself for fucking up what we had, what we would _still have_ if I hadn't been such a stupid goddamn bastard and screwed it up and broke your heart. I've been on tours in every fucking country looking for you and when I saw you last week I just about went outta my head. I wanted to jump off that goddamn stage and sweep you up in my arms and take you back to Japan with me, I wanted to bring you back into the VIP rooms and lavish you with gifts and apologies until I was blue in the face, get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness for being such a scared, prideful idiot. I loved you and I was fuckin' terrified to admit it so I just drove you away and that tortures me every second I've been looking for you. I'm still in love with you, stupid as it is, and all this time I've been praying that maybe, if I grovel and beg and apologize and pay for all the shit I put you through that you might consider giving me another chance. I can't stop thinking that I owe you, so much, and I…tell me what to do. Whatever you want, whatever you say, I'll do it, give it, anything, _please_!" He had, like he'd said, gotten onto his knees, head bowed as he held one of the doctor's hands in both of his own; to his horror he found tears were dripping down his nose to land on their hands. They stayed that way for a few moments, Grimmjow sobbing softly but getting louder as he took the silence as a bad sign, until there was a slight tug and slim fingers grasped his chin to tilt his face up. "As far as I'm concerned," Ichigo whispered, "there was never anything to forgive. It was my own fault I got hurt, sticking around for so long and never saying anything to you. No reparation needed."

Grimmjow was beautiful, even with his eyes swollen and red, tears streaming down his face, his throat working as he cried. He had started to cry harder, probably thinking that Ichigo had refused his offer to get back together, and the doctor smiled at him gently. "Come on, Mr. Famous Rock Star, let's get you home. My son won't be happy to see you, but we've got some things to discuss and I'd rather not do it in a bar with everybody listening. I'm kinda famous around here, you know- the gossip mills will have a field day with this." Grimmjow followed him like an obedient puppy, perked at the possibility that he might be allowed to get back with his beloved, studiously ignoring the persistent sting in his cheek.

74. Pride (takes place after "Romance" and before "Promise")

After Ichigo had left town, Grimmjow had done a little digging. His little lover (yes, he was secure enough with his own feelings to admit he'd fallen just as much in love with the fucker as Ichigo had with him) had deliberately held off earning his full doctorate because he would've been required to leave the city to take up a position at a hospital halfway across the country. When Grimmjow left, there had been nothing holding him back anymore. He'd never expected that the intelligent intern was so attached as to stall his _career_, but now that he actually thought about it, it sort of made sense. Ichigo had been in love, and as he put it, forcing himself to be content with whatever Grimmjow had been willing to give at the time. If he had moved away, would Grimmjow have followed? No, probably not, with how determined he was not to get attached to the young man. Of course, if he ever found him again (which was unlikely because Ichigo was one of those kind souls who would move to Africa and then become accepted within the native communities because that's how he _is_ and that's what he _does_) he would chase him to the ends of the Earth if necessary, but that didn't change the fact that he would've staunchly denied himself and Ichigo back then. Leaning against the bar, he downed another shot of the strongest liquor this place sold and damned the man he'd been that had withdrawn from the love of his life out of fear three years ago and damned the foolish pride that had kept him from realizing that he was stupid-in-love until it was too late to fix his mistake.

75. Flexible

Grimmjow's inherent flexibility had always fascinated Ichigo, even before they'd begun their sexual relationship. Currently, he had the feline bent around like a pretzel as he licked him all over, savoring him. Shortly afterward, he was bent around similarly while Grimmjow did illegal things to his body using a surprisingly rough tongue. Later, when both lay sated and boneless on the mattress, he commented to Grimmjow that he loved his flexibility. The panther looked at him like he'd spit out a rainbow-colored rabbit and snorted. "Yer more flexible than I ever been, shinigami… an' in more ways that one." Ichigo blushed, stammered something that made no sense in any language, and buried his burning face in the Espada's neck while the bigger man laughed his ass off.

76. Play

"C'mon, shinigami," the Arrancar whined, "don't be like that! I just wanna play!" Ichigo gave him a level deadpan stare. "Bullshit. You want us to try to kill each other and I just don't have the energy today," he stated flatly, dark bags beneath his eyes showing the truth of this statement. Grimmjow, in his released form at the moment, splayed his hands out wide to bring his torso lower, his ass in the air and his tail flicking. Though it made him wince, it was a innocently playful pose that almost any creature could understand he had energy to _burn_, dammit- stupid as he felt doing this, he was willing to if he could get the Soul Reaper to play. "Just a little wrestling, then I'll leave you alone, I promise," he wheedled, though he had no intention of letting the younger male go until they'd played at least five different games. He saw the kid hesitate, considering, then he turned and threw his sword to the side. "Alright, Grimmjow," he sighed, "I'll play."

Three hours later, they both collapsed onto the teenager's bed, out of breath but grinning like loons. "Just wrestling, huh Grimmjow? God, you're such a liar." Grimmjow laughed. "But you liked it." Ichigo snorted. "Damn straight. We'll have to play more often."

77. Reject

Sucking on a cigarette, face set in his usual thunderous scowl, Ichigo Kurosaki was rather pissed off. His application to work for the prestigious Shinigami Inc, a famous art company that sold art work at galleries all around the world, had just been denied. He hadn't even asked them to sell his _own_ artwork; he'd been applying to be an assistant so he could arrange galleries and catalogue and shit. He was qualified- more than qualified, in fact- but they'd denied him just because his record had some assault charges from thugs that had jumped him that he'd beat the shit out of. It had been self-defense! Carelessly grinding the butt out on his own collarbone, which bore dozen of scars from other cigarettes, he exhaled through his nose, looking like an angry dragon, and started to stalk back to his little shit apartment. He could take this out on the block of Maplewood he had left over from his most recent life-size (a dragon of ice he'd named Hyoninmaru). "Oi! You Ichigo 'King' Kurosaki?" He paused, looking over his shoulder to see a blue-haired Greek God of a man standing behind him, hands shoved in his pockets. "That's m'artist handle, yeah. I don't do commissions, if that's what yer lookin' for." The man chuckled, raking a hand through his hair. "No, no, I know betta. Men like you don't sell their souls. You need a job, right? My boss wants ya, as an artist an' an assistant." Ichigo turned around fully now, rummaging for a new cigarette. "What's yer gallery? I've been rejected by the Shinigami, so if yer anywhere near their level ya'll probably wanna walk away now." The man grinned, tossing the artist a fresh pack of his favorites (an expensive foreign brand called "Newport") and a lighter. "My boss is the owner of Las Noches, and he wants ya ta run one of the Espada branches. Mine, specifically- Sexta galleries. Those stupid Shinigami may have turned ya down, but we know yer goin' places." Lighting up, Ichigo breathed out a cloud of smoke, then smirked. "Sure. As long as I git th'chance ta shove this rejection in those Shinigami's faces, I'm all fer it. Let's go, Adonis."

78. Sweet

It took very little time for Ichigo to learn Grimmjow had quite a sweet tooth. However, he had a preference for a certain type of sweet- ironically, the only kind of human foods he would eat had to be strawberry flavored. Suckers, hard candy, gum, ice cream; if it was strawberry flavored, he would devour it with relish. He learned this unexpectedly when the panther Arrancar had pinned him to the concrete and sealed their mouths together, tongue thrusting deep into his mouth. In shock, he allowed it to happen, gasping for air when the bigger man finally pulled back to breathe. Blinking at him confusedly, Ichigo breathed deep, almost panting. "What the hell was that for?" His voice was curious, no accusation or disgust in it at all, and Grimmjow smiled at him just a little. "Strawberries. I'm crazy 'bout 'em, and I've been wonderin' fer weeks if you tasted like one. You do. Can I taste you…elsewhere?" Ichigo later found out that Grimmjow swore Ichigo was the sweetest soul he'd ever tasted, and that his cum apparently tasted exactly like fresh strawberries. After that the panther refused to let anyone touch him, lest "the touch of fouler beings spoil the fruit". He also ordered Ichigo to never change, so he'd never stop being so sweet.

79. Touch (Continuation of "Whore")

Grimmjow howled, his back arched in orgasm, falling bonelessly to the bed when he finished, a little dazed from the intensity. Ichigo lay beside him, a creamy smile of content on his face as he watched his whore pant, licking the release off his hand. The panther inside him purred, a rare occurrence that was happening more and more often around his Soul Reaper. The part that scared him, however, was that his inner animal was changing it's demands- rather than demand sex from the nearest person, it had settled into a patter and started to pick favorites. For rough, painful sex, he went to Nnoitra, for something new and possibly dangerous he went to Szayel, when he felt like submitting he went to Stark, when he wanted dominance he went to Illifort, and when he wanted it gentle he went to Ichigo. He was no longer driven to pounce on anyone who looked even vaguely interesting, and most disturbing was he was increasingly going to anyone other than Ichigo quite a bit less. Ichigo didn't even fuck him most of the time, just touched him until he lost himself and was out of his mind, and more often than not concealed his hard-on so Grimmjow wouldn't insist on taking care of it. This frustrated the panther immensely, which might explain why it was focusing so intently on Ichigo, but that didn't explain why he wasn't screwing anything mildly attractive that breathed. When he took this problem to Hallibel, who was the most knowledgeable about this sort of thing, she blandly informed him that he was slowly becoming addicted to Ichigo's touch and eventually that would be the only touch he desired. Deciding that no longer being a whore, but instead being a consort (more or less) sounded pretty damn good, Grimmjow let the addiction come.

He soon began demanding Ichigo let him touch him back.

80. Virgin

Grimmjow hadn't been able to believe it when he heard. Kurosaki had nearly killed a drunken man that had tried to take advantage of him, and rather than just slug the guy and leaving he kept pounding the shit out of the intoxicated human until he was half-dead. The reason? Kurosaki was a virgin and would not tolerate _anyone_ touching him that way without his consent. The baby shinigami was almost a quarter-century old and he still had never enjoyed the carnal pleasures of the flesh? But during their next battle (though Grimmjow as more inclined to call them 'sparring sessions' now, seeing as he no longer had any desire to actually kill the kid) he'd snuck in a quick grope of his ass and the man had come after him like a demon, insulted beyond belief. When he investigated this further, he discovered Ichigo did not tolerate being touched unless it was one of his younger sisters. Neither his friends, nor his father, nor any of the people he dated, male or female, was allowed to touch him. After another sparring session, he used a wall and his sword to corner Ichigo so he couldn't escape and demanded to know why Ichigo disallowed touches of any sort to his person. Ichigo blinked at him, then his shoulders slumped and he broke eye contact, refusing to look at him again. "When I was six a guy came into the clinic for a broken finger. He touched me. I don't like being touched." Now, Grimmjow was a wild animal. Animals comprehend things differently than humans, because they don't attach the same emotions to things that happen- pain is just a warning of your limitations, and touching and sex is just touching and sex. Unless it's a fight, touching doesn't mean anything, and a forceful mating (what humans call 'rape') just means they were horny and you weren't. It wasn't that big of a deal. So the panther was confused.

"Did he hurt you?" Ichigo's frown became deeper. "Yeah." Okay, getting hurt from letting a stranger touch you would make you wary, but it still didn't explain why he would let his friends, whom he trusted, get too close. He expressed this, making Ichigo facepalm and mutter it was a human issue that young'uns were not supposed to be touched sexually because their young minds couldn't handle the stress. Then of course Grimmjow freaked out; he hadn't understood that when Ichigo said he'd been touched, he meant _that_ kind of touch. Grimmjow then announced that he would support Ichigo being a virgin for as long as he damn well pleased and promised he'd help beat up anyone who touched him without permission. Ichigo thanked him with a chaste kiss, more of a peck on the lips really, which left Grimmjow stunned and dazed for almost two days. It was most amusing.


	10. numbers 81 to 90

81. Fan Fiction

The day he'd heard about 'fan fiction', Ichigo had been curious, horrified, aroused, disgusted, and a whole slew of other emotions he had no words for. He'd had no idea such a terrible thing could exist. Not only did these people, these _strangers_ know his life, past, present, and future, they were using people he knew and himself and twisting his entire world for their own amusement and THEN making this terrible perversion of all he'd ever known available to other sick-minded people! And of course, they all seemed to presume he was gay (he was bi, goddamn it, _bi!_) and paired him up with anyone he knew and even some people he didn't know, so he couldn't look any of his male friends in the eye now. Hell, he couldn't even look at _Byakuya_ or _Kenpatchi_ without blushing as red as the fruit his name often depicted. One of the more popular pairings (aside from Renji and his hollow) was somebody he hadn't even met yet, an apparent Arrancar by the name of "Grimmjow" with distinctive ice blue hair and half a hollow's jaw on the right side of his face his only mask fragment. His hollow hole was supposedly in his stomach and he would, during the first two meetings, kick Ichigo's ass from Japan to America and back. Having this little tidbit, when the man himself showed up, Ichigo stared at him, flushed cherry red, and hid his face behind his hand. "I'm not fucking fighting you. No. No way in hell. I am _not_ going through this shit. Not after Strawberry Bad Boy. Hell. No." Grimmjow, supremely confused at this, watched the black-haired female gape at the teen. "You said you didn't read that one!"

"I couldn't resist after I found out it had a happy ending! Besides, you're no better –_you're_ the one who discovered 'Inspiration' and then made ME read it!"

"Oh like that was so bad; what about the 'Crush Collection'?"

"Don't you even bring that up. You _know_ Bonnuit likes sticking me in moresomes! And besides, there's barely any voyeurism in the Crush Collection, but Inspiration is entirely _about_ voyeurism!" His head turning from side to side as he watched them snarl and growl back and forth, Grimmjow was confused, but intrigued. The girl hissed, "And 'Cell Phone Fun' and 'Chained Kings' _weren't_?"

"You can't possibly count Chained Kings as voyeurism. There was no evidence of anyone watching them."

"Then how in the hell did they get into the room and then back out?"

"Someone did it, but that doesn't mean they watched."

"Well what about 'My Inspiration'?"

"You leave My Inspiration alone! That one is actually almost tasteful!" The teenage male paused then, before his fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe I'm arguing about the tastefulness of fan fiction when technically anyone who writes a sex scene is being a voyeur. We need to stop this conversation _right now_." "Uh, no, you don't," Grimmjow finally piped up. "You need to tell me what the living fuck you're talkin' about!" Ichigo and Rukia looked at each other, then Ichigo gestured to the Espada to follow him. "Come on. It's not something that can be explained –I'll have to show you." He had a particular one in mind, in fact…'Endure and Survive' ought to be gentle enough to start, seeing as it was AU (Alternate Universe) so it wouldn't hit too close to reality and freak him out too badly right away.

NOTE: All the fics mentioned here are NOT MINE and yes, they are real. If you enjoy GrimmIchi, I highly suggest you look them up.

82. Stories

Ichigo was an author. Words were his weapon, his shield, and his art- well, at least when they weren't spoken. He couldn't speak for shit, always managing to piss someone off and get in a fistfight. That's why the other Shinigami couldn't understand for the life of them why he considered himself a wordsmith. Grimmjow, when he heard, believed it without a second thought –he'd _heard_ the stories the kid spun for his old man and his teachers when he bailed to go fight hollows and Arrancar. Of course, the substitute shinigami wasn't expecting it in the least when Arrancar, starting with Grimmjow, started showing up at his house in the middle of the night and offering to keep the lower ranks away from Karakura if he'd spin them a story to get out of trouble with Aizen…not that he ever turned them down.

83. Classes (Continuation of 'Neighbors')

As one was a professor, and the other was a student in his third year, both Ichigo and Grimmjow's schedule seemed to revolve around their classes. After two and a half months, this naturally put some strain on their relationship, particularly considering they hardly ever got to see each other these days. They came home to their shared bed each night, stripped down to skivvies, and curled around each other in complete exhaustion, and that was about it. Ichigo, who left first in the morning, would cook something and leave half on the stove for his lover to eat later, give Grimmjow a kiss goodbye, and head out. Grimmjow, who usually had a few free hours at home before his late-night class, liked to draw a bath for his roommate and boyfriend before he left so the boy could relax right when he got home, and these little gestures were all that kept them from doing stupid things like throwing angry accusations at each other during the rare times they managed to meet up for lunch or they both got a day off. Right now, Ichigo was passed out on their bed; Grimmjow had been supposed to get off work early today, so he'd prepared a special surprise, sticky notes guiding the older man to the bedroom where Ichigo waited, dressed in nothing but skimpy black leather straps. After three hours, he'd finally given in and let himself fall asleep, a blanket dragged over his lower body in a semblance of modesty in case Grimmjow had gone and gotten shitfaced and was brought home by one of his friends. When Grimmjow got home, tired and overall looking like he'd had the shit beat out of him, he found the notes and followed them to find his lover sleeping innocently. The poor orange-head looked sad and disappointed even in his sleep, and the professor realized with a pang that he couldn't pinpoint the last time they had made love.

Usually after going for an extended period without sex from his bedroom-proficient kitten, Grimmjow could name down to the minute when he had last been in Ichigo's bed, but he realized with growing guilt and horror that he had no idea how long it'd been, just that it had been a long while. It disturbed him –what if the younger man was feeling that the passion had gone out of their relationship, that they had lost their spark? What if Ichigo _left him_? He knew the brawny redhead from Ichigo's current Psychology classes was built just like the student liked 'em, broad and buff but not a complete muscle-head and he was possibly one of the most passionate men in that age group aside from Ichigo himself. It would be all too easy to find comfort in those tattooed, muscled arms if he wasn't getting the affection and pleasure he needed from Grimmjow. Feeling sick, the blue-haired male collapsed against the door frame, sagging against the wood that was all that was keeping him standing. He really, _really_ didn't want to lose his Ichi-Berry to that immature (but sexy) prick, but he and Ichigo hadn't touched in months…it wouldn't really be surprising if his younger, virile lover decided to start seeking satisfaction elsewhere. Slowly stripping himself, Grimmjow approached the bed, praying it wasn't too late. He grinned when he pulled the cover aside to see the little leather ensemble he'd gotten Ichigo for his birthday- Ichigo only pulled _that_ out as an extra-special treat, and then only every once in a blue moon. He must've been serious when he said in his note that he was planning to give Grimmjow a night to remember, which translated to the best sex of his life.

He let his tongue drag along the small stripes of skin between the leather straps, purring all the while and settling between Ichigo's splayed legs. He wanted his Ichi to have a…highly…pleasant awakening, and it had been probably at least a year since he'd woken Ichigo with a blow job. Ichigo made a low groan in his sleep, body slowly coming to attention beneath Grimmjow's tongue. That slightly irritated him too –before, even in his sleep, just a few licks could have him hard as a rock in seconds. He really had been neglecting his lover. Well…he'd have to correct that, now wouldn't he?

Ichigo woke up with a cry, his body arching and thrashing in the covers as he reached his peak. When he was able to be coherent again he smirked down at the Psychology professor who was licking his lips with a creamy smile of satifaction. "Oh good, baby, you're home…time to get the night started. We _do_ have classes in the morning, after all."

84. Contradictions

They were a walking contradiction- Shinigami and Espada, good and evil, kind and cruel, and yet…somehow perfect together. The only _problem_ was that they _weren't_ together, and they were driving everyone who knew them up the wall! Aizen had started to send Grimmjow on missions to the living world just to let him work off some of his fury and had even gone so far as to give him permission to go anywhere he liked any time he liked. This resulted in him popping up at the most random (and sometimes inopportune) moments to pick a fight with Ichigo, and this explained why Ichigo hadn't been in anything close to a good mood for weeks. He had, in fact, taken to ignoring Grimmjow if he showed up at a bad time (he really, _really_ hated being dragged out of the shower while a psycho Espada demanded a fight, or being grabbed by his shirt and thrown out the window while he was eating dinner, ect…). Being ignored did not go over well with the panther, usually resulting in a more brutal, vicious fight, which of course made Ichigo even _more _reluctant to fight him the next time. Grimmjow, eventually, learned this and would wait (impatiently, cussing and spitting) for Ichigo to finish what he was doing and get ready to fight him. Aizen was fully aware of what was going on and intrigued at the fact that the young Kurosaki boy had successfully managed to teach Grimmjow both manners and patience to some degree. Enjoying the effect, Aizen started to wonder if he would be able to negotiate with the boy –he'd be willing to offer just about anything if Kurosaki could bring the Sexta under control, even if it was limited. Two weeks later, the Contract of the Contradiction was drawn up and signed, which stated that Ichigo's family and friends would be brought to Las Noches by hook or by crook and protected for the duration of the Winter War and would be released when the war ended no matter which side won.

In return, Ichigo would subtly and slowly continue to teach Grimmjow how to behave, because if Grimmjow didn't do what he wanted then Ichigo would flat-out refuse to fight him, and Aizen had given strict orders that the shinigami was to be respected and obeyed or they would face a night in Gin's private room. Now that they both resided in the same place, the pair truly were a walking contradiction, even if they were nothing more than comrades…for the moment.

85. Glasses

Grimmjow Jaggerjack, popular student, Captain of the Fight Club, honor roll student… was wearing glasses. Black, thick, square-framed glasses that should've made him look like a complete geek but somehow only made him even more drool-worthy than he already was. Fuck. Desperate to control his boner before anyone saw it, Ichigo Kurosaki (resident geek, member of the Art Club, and most unpopular outcast in school) pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his own glasses and thought of dead babies and abused animals. It worked, killing his desire immediately, and he sighed. He was one of the openly gay men in his high school –though nowhere near Flaming Gay like Shinji was –and he'd never hear the end of it if he was caught staring at a _popular_ boy with a boner. If anyone knew how deeply he fancied that arrogant son of a bitch he would be ridiculed until he was ready to commit suicide. He also, unfortunately, was more or less on suicide watch permanently after the attempt four years ago, during middle school. He'd been _so close_…but then fucking _Renji_ had to find him and call the goddamn ambulance. The jock didn't even _like_ him and he just had to go and ruin everything! Still angry about that day so long ago, Ichigo couldn't control the low, dangerous growl that vibrated the air. His uncontrollable growls and snarls had a tendency to scare those around him, which was a strong factor to his being such an outcast. Removing his hand and letting the glasses (slim, gold wire frames that would've looked fashionable on anybody else) slam back down on the bridge of his nose, he sighed and returned to his book. They were being required to read Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet' for Reading, and as many times as he'd already read it, the language and the story never failed to bring him deep into the book.

He was already more than halfway through it when the first attack came –a rough hand yanked harshly on his hair and jerked his head back almost hard enough to snap his neck, causing him to snarl wordlessly like a disturbed lion. "Aww, look at the little geek! He's trying to sound tough!" Staring into the eyes of the cheerleader's captain, whom he privately called the Head Bitch, and her posse, Ichigo finally decided that he didn't _care_ if it was his last year and only three months 'til graduation; he _was not going to take this shit anymore_! With another fierce growl, he moved, and the next thing anybody knew Ichigo was on his feet and Loly was screaming in pain, the arrogant girl pinned to the orange-haired teen's desk as he twisted harder on her wrist, grinding the broken bones of her forearm together. "I'm sick of your shit, bitch," he hissed, loud enough for the entire class to hear, "you think you can take me? I've beat men three times my size and made them _cry like toddlers_, torn ligaments, broken bones, internal damage you can't imagine. I've been fighting off people twice my age and four times my size since you were in _diapers_ and your little punk ass thinks you can take me? Break me? It's so ridiculous it's not even funny." His hand gripping her hair and yanking so her neck bent back like she'd done to him, he smiled psychotically, murderously, and let his mouth nearly touch her ear as he whispered, "A flick of my wrist and I can snap your neck like a fucking _twig_, you pathetic little weakling. I could kill you here and now and _it would be worth it_. I'm not usually this violent, not after The Incident eight years ago, but you just seem to bring out the _Demon_ in me. Do you understand, little girl, how bad of an idea it is to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until someone **breaks**? Haven't you ever heard?" He lowered his voice further so that only she could hear. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. When we break, we tend to go…**wild**…we tend to become… _**beasts**_."

He was surprised out of it when his glasses, which had fallen off when he moved, were gently replaced and adjusted how he liked them. Letting up on his grip and letting her hair go, he stared down at her for a moment before looking to see who had returned them. "Thank you, Jaggerjack-san," he said softly, his tone back to his normal polite one, "it has been too long. The Demon is restless and wants to play." The popular student grinned and peered over the black frames that had slid down his nose, blue eyes showing an inner predator from behind the containing glass. "Let the useless Prey go," he suggested silkily, "and maybe your Demon and my Beast can play together." Ignoring the now whimpering and sobbing bitch –the Prey –he tilted his head back so the Demon backed down a little- the prescription glasses always gave the Demon a headache and made him settle when he got antsy. "We would like another predator to play with. Prey is just no fun anymore." Grimmjow shoved his glasses closer to his face, the battle-hungry glint fading a little at a time as he stared through the clear glass. "Yeah, no fun at all. In the meantime, don't lose your glasses again, yeah? We wouldn't want you arrested before we got a chance to meet you…_** properly**_."

86. Share

It was strange, when you thought about it, how Grimmjow was one of the most possessive motherfuckers you'd ever meet in your lifetime, but when it came to the most important man in his life, his lover, he had no problems sharing. They didn't have any children (yet) so he didn't have to share too much, but he did anyway. If Ichigo wanted to go out with friends and stay the night at wherever they met to drink at the end of the night, the panther would only shrug and remind him to contact him before suppertime the next day. When other people flirted with Ichigo (and they did that a lot) he never said anything or made possessive gestures, not even if Ichigo was flirting back. Even when people would tell him that Ichigo, a very, _very_ friendly drunk, had slept with whoever caught his fancy that night, the Espada usually just shrugged and said "So what?" Grimmjow had known going into their strange relationship that he would never be allowed to have Ichigo all to himself. The boy would've demanded that he share with the teen's family if nothing else. So he had decided, the boy could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted…just as long as he returned to Grimmjow. The Arrancar had no problems sharing Ichigo, just so long as he got to be the favorite, the home berth the shinigami always returned to. Since he was the favorite, the only one Ichigo always came back to when he wanted stability for a time, he was content…even if he _did_ have to share his lover.

87. Lies

If there was one thing his King could not tolerate, Shirosaki mused to himself, it was when someone lied. If you were lying to protect a friend, or your family, then he could understand it and let it slide, but if someone lied to his face without there being any need at all for it…well, that just drove him mad. As the destruction of half the Sereitei was proving when his reiatsu had exploded. Kurosaki Ichigo was, right at this moment, prowling the sands of Hueco Mundo and establishing himself some territory. The shinigami had _lied_ to him –about what he was, about Aizen, about the Winter War, about almost everything. Settling down into his own little cave and growling in warning whenever he felt spiritual pressure getting too close to his territorial borders, Ichigo sighed and curled up on himself, in his true _Arrancar_ form. Skin paler than the sands and covered with the bright red markings, claws for hands and feet, a thick tail, a long mane of hair, and a portion of hollow mask that clung to the sides of his head to support his horns, he was a sight to behold and a beautiful specimen of an Arrancar. He also, right at this particular moment, was annoyed because a reiatsu that felt vaguely familiar was steadily approaching and it felt more than strong enough to discount his growls. It also felt…friendly? Or perhaps…simply non-hostile. Either way, it was enough to perk his pointed ears and raise his head, tail flicking interestedly. He liked that reiatsu, he liked it's taste and how it felt when it brushed against his own untamable mass. He looked forward to meeting the one it came from. He was in fact fond enough of it that when a human-like creature with blue hair (that he _knew_ he knew from somewhere, but for the life of him couldn't remember) he snagged the brawny male in his claws and cuddled up to him contently.

Grimmjow, mildly disturbed by this but not making a fuss since the stranger didn't seem inclined to actually hurt him, yawned and wrapped himself around the warm Arrancar male, ignoring the orange hair. He would learn of Kurosaki's defection and resulting neutrality in the war (unless his friends or family was attacked) after escorting him to Las Noches a few days later. He would also be the only one to discover what had made the teen literally explode half of the Court of Pure Souls was that they had lied to him about who and what he was and why they would not trust him.

88. Mate (Continuation of 'Belong')

It had been another week since Grimmjow had approached him on the roof, and Ichigo was almost completely out of time to be claimed by his mate. His Neko ears were almost gone, his scales covered most of his skin, his tail was fully lizard, his feet were completely converted into lizard claws with a small spire where his heel had been and huge claws instead of toes, and his hands had transformed entirely into deadly claws shaped like a human hand with a little spine that extended from the side of his wrist for about two and a half inches and was connected to his forearm by webbed skin to form a little fin. Laid out on his stomach in the sun after school, he purred rustily as his eyelids drifted shut. His tail flickered contently, soaking up the yellow warmth into his snow-white scales, his red markings glowing against the light. Stretched out cat-like, he dozed softly, rolling onto his side to curl up for a proper nap. He was startled awake abruptly when a hot body draped itself over his, gentle fangs starting to chew on his ear in a provocative invitation. Confused, alarmed, and a little angry, he quickly rolled onto his back and pushed the as-yet unidentified male back with a snarl. A flash of ice blue and he realized it was Grimmjow, unconsciously gentling and ceasing to push against him as the panther purred and pressed against him, rubbing their chests and cheeks together. His pupils were unnaturally dilated, his ears drooping to half-mast and his tail making strange shapes and corkscrewing- something was very, very wrong. He was probably drugged –catnip grew wild in an empty lot nearby this park, and some of the non-feline Hybrids found it amusing to reap them and randomly shove it in a felid's face to watch them get high when they were unable to resist eating it. Grimmjow was now high as a kite, horny as fuck, and looking to mate the nearest potential he could sniff out. What was left of his ears flattened angrily, and though his instinct screamed not to he pushed the panther off his body.

"You're not thinking straight, Grimmjow. You prefer females. Go find one."

Though he stayed where he was pushed to, the Neko leaned over to rub their cheeks together again. "Nnnnnnnooo," he slurred, "nnnnot fe-fe-female…wwwwant I-Ichi. Wwwant Ichi! Ichi nnnnnot wwwant Grrrr-Grrrrimm?"

Ichigo shuddered; if the bigger male kept advancing like he was, inching closer and closer, and saying things like that, the lizard-Neko wouldn't be able to keep himself in check for long. "I want you so bad it _hurts_. You like females, remember? You avoided me so you didn't have to reject me outright, but I'd never have started changing back unless you had begun courting and preparing to mate _someone else_. You don't want me, and you never did."

Grimmjow licked his neck, frowning deeply when Ichigo moved away from his touch. "Wwwant Ichi," he insisted, "on-on-_only_ Ichi. Ichi wwwant Grrrriiim- wh-wh-wh-why Ichi sssssay nnno?"

Ichigo stood, his tail thrashing. "My body doesn't lie, Grimmjow! There's only one way for a solitary to return to their original species, and that's if their mate, their _only ever_ mate, chooses somebody else! Just-just go find your bitch and mate _her_ and leave me alone!"

Still heavily under the influence of his hormones, the panther grabbed the dangerously thrashing tail and brought it closer so he could lightly gnaw and suck on it. "But Gr-Grrrimm loves hisss Ichi," he mumbled around the uncontrollably twitching flesh petulantly.

Crouching down and tugging his tail away, the Lizard-Neko caressed the panther's face softly, knowing this would probably be the only time the feline would allow him to. "Think back to the past month, Grimmjow – you were with someone other than me. You probably love them. You were courting them and wanted to mate them- remember who it was."

Grimmjow pouted at having his treat taken away, not understanding why Ichi kept saying Grimmjow didn't want him. Of course he did! He'd always wanted the cute little Neko, but when he was sober he wasn't brave enough to acknowledge that. When he was sober he didn't like admitting he loved a male, because he knew his mother would disown him for being 'filthy' and 'damned to hell for eternity'. Seeing as he wasn't allowed to play with his beloved's tail, instead he nipped playfully at the sharp claws that were trailing back and forth across his face and cheeks delicately. "Grrrrrimm llllllo-loves Ichi," he persisted, beginning to suck on the claws (they tasted _divine_ and he could bite at the scales all he wanted to because he knew he couldn't possibly damage them) with a purr. "Fe-female jusssssst cov-cover. Grrrimm's Dam issss dan-dan-dangerrrrous. Wwwant _Ichi_." Though he was busy savoring the fingers in his mouth, he sure as hell didn't miss the expression of pain that flashed over his Ichi's face.

"You're…not yourself. C'mon, let's get you home." He nipped the fingers again as they withdrew from him, a little disappointed, but got unsteadily to his feet. Wherever his Ichi wanted to take him, he'd go, and wherever Ichi went, he'd follow. At least until the catnip wore off. He didn't look forward to that –if he hadn't mated Ichi by the time he got sober again, he'd never mate him. He was too much of a coward. When those punks had shoved the catnip directly under his nose, so close he couldn't resist eating it, he'd had a short moment of clarity, of realization. If he was out of his mind on the catnip, maybe his mother would just have to accept what he'd done because he had been unwillingly drugged and at the mercy of his instincts. Instincts that told him Ichi was a worthy mate and he should choose him.

Ichigo jumped when clawed, soft-furred hands attached to his hips from behind as he led Grimmjow home. He should've expected it though, as right now his instincts were telling him he loved Ichigo and therefore should be mating him right now. That meant, until Ichigo consented to mate him, Grimmjow would not stop touching him in an attempt to work Ichigo up and make himself a more alluring choice of mate. He would, until either the catnip wore off or Ichigo consented, dote unceasingly on the orange-head, which was a tactic to show he would be a loving and faithful mate if chosen. The Lizard-Neko, on the other hand, wasn't sure how long he could continue saying 'no'. He wanted to say yes, desperately in fact, and every second he spent with a loving, attentive, horny mate only made it harder to resist. Half an hour later and the effects were still going strong –that is, Grimmjow now had Ichigo bent over backwards on the arm of his couch, rubbing his face against him to scent mark him, and insisting in his slurred, broken speech that he loved Ichigo. The Lizard-Neko gave up and slid down to rest comfortably on the couch cushions, rubbing his own face along the panther's pectorals to scent mark him in return. Delighted with this turn of events, Grimmjow purred loudly, throwing his head back and sliding down as well so his little Ichi-mate had more access. A rusty growl/purr answered him, followed by a very quiet, "Ichi loves Grimm."

"Grrrimm llllloves Ichi," he panted, unable to catch his breath as some of the stronger catnip effects kicked in, "Ichi lllloves Gr-Grrrim. M-Mates?"

The crossbreed sighed. "Yes. Mates."

Making a pleased, happy sound deep in his throat, Grimmjow set his teeth at the one soft spot left on Ichigo- the place where neck met shoulder- and offered up his own shoulder for the sharp lizard teeth.

The bite was painful. _Extremely_ painful, in fact, seeing as Lizard teeth were all canines, sharp as shark teeth, and each individual tooth had a little jagged edge for maximum tearing and shredding ability. But it was permanent and mutual, and that was what counted. He felt a sharp pulse go through the body of his new mate, followed by a short whimper that made his tail bristle. But when he looked, Ichigo's Neko ears (all that was left of his felid form at this point) had grown back to full size all at once, which had probably hurt. He licked one of the beautiful orange ears soothingly, and that rusty purr/growl came again, informing him it was appreciated. Well, he'd chosen his mate, officially, so it looked like he was going to have to get used to being this brave sober. Facing his mother would be hell, but he'd manage. What mattered right now was comforting his hurting mate.

89. Marked

When Grimmjow had been ordered by his own physiology to take a partner, mostly because his instincts were demanding he either sire or kit a litter, he hadn't been happy about it. He figured he'd fuck or be fucked by the first healthy being he came across that had enough spiritual pressure to survive the coupling. He hadn't expected the one to fit the criteria to be the shinigami he'd seen in Ulquiorra's report- the Kurosaki brat. Of course, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, this was not enough to deter him from the plan and he was still going to take what he wanted. He had just pulled off the unresisting boy's top, dropping the black and white material to the grass beneath their feet, when he found them. The _marks_. He could tell bruising came from many different shaped hands of different sizes, the red love bites came from several different mouths, and the scratches littering his torso came from nails with varying degrees of sharpness. He'd been had before, likely against his will, by at least four other people. He'd learned to stop fighting it, which was the only reason Grimmjow wasn't in immense pain right now. He'd stopped dead at the sight of those _marks_ on the one who would give _him_ children and made by someone other than him. If Kurosaki had possessed any fight left in him at all, Grimmjow would be flat on the ground with his face beat in by now. Letting his cerulean gaze stop at the waistband of the teenager's pants, he realized big, black, misshapen bruises overran each of his hipbones and down, below, as though the bruises overlapped. They probably did, and that was what made Grimmjow stop there. He used a hand at the small of the smaller man's back to bring the lithe body forward and dropped to his knees.

This quite apparently surprised Ichigo, who finally moved a little –just a slight motion of his left hand, as if to reach for Grimmjow's shoulder, before he went still again. Encouraged by the favorable reaction of getting any reaction at all, the panther nuzzled the bruised stomach as lightly as possible so as not to hurt his chosen partner and then he began to clean the small wounds and scratches. His hollow nature gave him saliva with healing qualities, he knew, so he was trying to use that advantage of his nature to help alleviate the pain the teenager was in. The crime that had been committed here broke several hollow mating and courtship laws. First, if you don't plan to permanently mate your partner, you are not allowed to Mark them up. Second, never defile a virgin against their will. Third, if you _do_ make the mistake of Marking up your partner, you stay and claim them as your mate. All these rules had been broken by at least four, and this left the boy traumatized and physically weakened. If he'd ever been carrying kits, he'd probably lost them to stress by now. Just because the boy was shinigami and unknowing of Hollow law was no excuse to do such horrible things to the lad. Rasping his tongue over another red, angry scratch mark and feeling it heal even as he licked, he was pleased when a hand gently twined with his hair. He liked to be touched, especially by someone who had never touched someone else willingly. He wanted the teen to like him, maybe even trust him, and anyone who could survive the horror he had was more than strong enough to sire a litter. He'd like Kurosaki to sire one with him, but first he had to heal him up.

When he reached the beltline, he looked up at the boy and asked quietly if he had any other wounds to heal that he couldn't see. The orange-haired male nodded silently, and Grimmjow asked if it was all bruising or if there were more claw or bite marks, explaining that his saliva had only a mild healing agent in it so he could only heal wounds that had broken the flesh; the saliva had to be applied directly onto and in the wound to be effective so he couldn't do anything for the bruises. Ichigo shook his head no, though it wasn't clear whether he meant that there _were_ claw marks or that there _weren't_. The teen wouldn't speak; he merely pushed his loose hakama off and clasped his hands behind his back, carefully not looking even in Grimmjow's general direction. The damage to his lower half, but most particularly to the hips and buttocks, was extensive and horrifying. Grimmjow swallowed down his anger and disgust at the bastards who'd left him in this condition and went to work. When he'd done all he could, he gently redressed the unresisting boy and then took him by the hand to lead him towards a few Soul Reapers he could feel in the area. On the way, he hesitatingly tried to explain what he was going through. Ichigo apparently understood, because he'd abruptly stiffened for a split second before turning pliable once again. Whoever had put him through hell must've reached their physiological time limit as well. He warned the boy that he would wait for him to heal, but after a while he'd lose his mind and if he showed up in his armored release form he'd have to find a way to control and calm him. Subjugation by beating him in battle would be best, but if the boy was still injured and lost, that would be bad.

Ichigo could read between the lines. Ff he wasn't healed and strong enough to beat the Espada back when he lost his mind to his instincts, he was going to be raped. Again. Probably even more viciously than before, because at least they'd been sane. So, when he was still bruised and just barely healed enough not to bleed every time he sat down and Grimmjow showed up, blue hair long, cat ears swiveling, and tail lashing in a coat of bone armor, he knew what he was supposed to do. Caught on patrol in a thankfully deserted warehouse district, he watched the panther's approach with a sigh. When the other male was close enough, he turned his back to him and braced both arms against the brick wall before him. He heard the soft pawsteps pause behind him, but knew better than to look. Looking over his shoulder was an invitation and made them more…'enthusiastic'. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the memories, and closed his eyes. Unexpectedly, rather than a hard body pressing against him from behind, he was pressed from the _front_, the hard body rubbing up and down against his own with a deep, enticing purr just begging him to look. Look he did, to find Grimmjow's no-longer-armored (and thus naked) body had somehow been wriggled in between his chest and the brick, and the panther humanoid was rubbing and pawing at him like a female in heat. Seeing he had The Chosen's attention, Grimmjow's instinctual self (Pantera, or so he was called) mewed and tilted his chin up to show his throat. He still remembered The Chosen's pain and hell, and hoped that offering his submission would soothe the one Grimmjow wanted to mate.

Cautiously, The Chosen bent his head to nuzzle the offered throat, his movements stiff and unsure. He was wary, and though Pantera hated it he knew why and couldn't blame the other male for it. To Pantera's encouraging mewls, The Chosen breathed deeply, imprinting his scent, and then gave him a little lick, almost like he was testing how far he could go. The blue-haired male turned his head, offering more skin. He was admittedly a little nervous about this; it was easier to dominate because then even if they refused you The Chosen could still be bound, though doing it forcefully was one of the worst things you could do. When submitting, however, if rejected, you were pretty well screwed, and not the good way. You only got to Choose once, and if you couldn't get your Chosen to accept you then you spent your life either alone or with another reject. That was a hollow's worst nightmare. In this case, The Chosen was liable to spook easily because he'd been badly abused, and he might reject Pantera and by extension Grimmjow if he spooked and bolted. A gentle scrape of teeth brought him out of his thoughts, exciting him at the same time. Would the Chosen Mate Mark him this early in the mating? He purred, stretching his neck further and hopes that the teeth would come again, biting and Marking him as the teenager's for the rest of eternity. They didn't bite, only scraping again ever-so-lightly as if he was afraid to use any force. It looked like his mate would need some blatant direction, but that was okay. Anything for his mate. "M-more, Ichigo-mate, more! Please. Make me yours?"

The Chosen smiled sadly against his neck, his sorrow seeping into his reiatsu. "I don't think," he rumbled softly, "that Grimmjow would be too happy to wake up to a dominant mate he'd have to submit to for the rest of his life."

Pantera whined- such a good mate, that he cared about what Grimmjow thought too, but he didn't understand! "Mates can switch roles, Master! You are his Chosen, so he wants to make you happy just like I do; _please_ Mark me!" Ichigo licked up his neck, more soothing than lustful, and kissed his jaw. It was all too calm and calculated, not desirous or sloppy like true passion at all, and Pantera didn't _like_ that. He desperately wanted his mate to want him, to feel passion and lust and love and to direct it all at him. His didn't like the cold, manipulative touches he was getting right now, almost as if Ichigo was just waiting for…waiting for Pantera to turn on him! Of course! He thought it was all a game, a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security to make it easier for Pantera to pounce, so naturally he wasn't putting anything into it; he just didn't trust him yet! The panther inhaled –and _oh_ that taste, that smell was delicious –and wrapped his arms around the Chosen's waist. "You're still hurt, aren't you, mate? Come, let's find a soft place." Ichigo didn't protest, instead flash-stepping them to a forest with a clearing next to a little stream and in the middle of the clearing was a depression just the right size for two bodies, lined with soft moss that grew there. Pantera couldn't help scenting the area, and found it was particularly clean; it only smelled like forest, a few week-old fox trails, and Ichigo. In fact, the Chosen's scent was all over this place, thick and strong, so this must be a private place for him. Honored that he would share it with him, Pantera nuzzled him and purred.

Unable to resist the instinct that was screaming at him, he turned around in his mate's hold so they were chest-to-back and ground his hips back against Ichigo's, feeling through the shinigami's pants what he'd been hoping for- the tell-tale bulge of his arousal. He whined a little as he felt it's heat, neck arched in offering and one of his hands creeping to the back of the Chosen's neck for leverage and balance. He needed his shinigami naked and in him, _right fucking now_. Ichigo finally seemed to be getting engaged, because he saw the uniform top flutter to the ground and a hot, naked chest pressed to his back as he heard the obi come loose and saw it fold to the grass out of the corner of his eye before suddenly there was a _fwsh_ sound and a throbbing, burning piece of flesh was pressed directly between his legs, sliding up and down his crack erotically. _"Nnah!"_ Oh yes, that was what he wanted, and it was _so close_… Again instinct dictated his movements and he stepped forward, spread his legs apart for better balance, and bent down, hands bracing on the forest floor for more stability. One hot hand burned a brand into his hip, kneading at it almost violently, and he didn't know what happened to the other one until a wet finger entered him, testing and probing. "A-ah! Ah, _nnnyahhh- ah_! Ngh, oh, _ahn!_" He was fertile right now, slick and dilated and ready, but oh, his mate was so good, even wanting to make sure he was prepared! Those fingers (three, when the hell had that happened, oh shit he didn't even care because it was _amazing_) were stretching him wider, stroking his insides and then it hit _the gland_ that made him yowl and mewl and make all sorts of humiliating noises –but as good as they were, fingers were not what he _really_ wanted.

He was watching and waiting, his body hot and engorged, because this time, this time he really wanted to believe that he meant what he said. He wanted, so hard, to believe that Grimmjow/Pantera wanted him enough to let him top, even if it was only because he was hurting right now. He wanted it enough to risk another rape, and when Pantera had expressed such concern for him, despite being randy enough to screw anything that moved, he'd given in and let it happen. He was horny and he was attracted to this man, and if he got the right signal, he was going to _fuck this man through the forest floor_. He just had to wait for the right invitation. Spreading his fingers as wide as the clenching, shuddering muscles would allow, he removed his other hand from the protruding hipbone to reach around and rake his short nails over the panther's chest before closing his fingers gently around one nipple. The high, wanting sound this produced made him growl, deep in his chest, and press closer to that temptingly offered ass, rubbing against it hard and reveling in the whine that resulted. He pinched the other nipple, growling louder, and finally got what he'd been looking for. Pantera glanced at him from over his right shoulder, eyes burning and pink tongue peeking out as his muscles strained. In one hard thrust, Ichigo joined with him.

As Ichigo started to touch him in other places, the growl that vibrated through both their bodies had made Pantera shiver. It was a husky, primal sound of lust and it was commanding absolute dominance. It drove him wild, and he struggled not to writhe impatiently. Why had his mate not mounted him yet? A louder, different growl commanded him to _look_ at him, and he understood. He was waiting to be invited. He was no beast who would mount him with teeth in the back of his neck to keep him compliant; he wanted to know he was welcomed and wanted. Pantera turned his head to welcome him in, letting the need show in his half-lidded eyes, tail folded up along his spine to be out of the way and his tongue in the middle of licking his lips. He was rewarded with immediate connection, giving a loud yowl at the wonderful sensation of being filled. Dilated as he was, it shocked him that Ichigo was thick enough to stretch him _further_, and long enough to reach in and rub against his prostate. _Holy fuck_ that was good! His ears, flattened submissively, caught the slick, wet sound of entry as the Chosen hilted himself, pausing there to let him adjust. Somehow, the sound of his own secretions lubing up that huge, hard cock was so _filthy_ and _loud_ that it made him impossibly more aroused, and that made him wetter even as it made him harder and he heard the shinigami groan behind him. With another growl, a mouth breathed hotly right next to his ear and he whimpered.

"You ready?"

Pantera didn't even have to hesitate in answering. _"Yes!"_ he mewled, pressing back against him as much as he could. The first thrust was so powerful that if he hadn't been braced for the strength of his mate, it would've floored him.

The next thrusts were just as hard- he was glad Pantera didn't need him to be gentle because he didn't think he _could_ hold back now. With every wet slap of skin and bone-jarring thrust, he was exorcising the pain of his rapes, the helplessness of being forced down and held as his body was violated, and he could feel his spirit twining together with the man underneath him. It was a connection wholly different from those other bastards, one made willingly and with warmth, meant to last longer than just this coupling. Both hands were roaming Pantera's body now, blunt nails leaving red welts in their wake when they weren't pinching, rubbing, pulling, or pressing. A little overwhelmed by the delicious sensation overtaking his body, he finally ended up grabbing onto the panther's shoulders and used his grip as leverage to thrust even harder and faster, unable to keep himself from going a little wild when Pantera was doing the same; bucking back into him and making all sorts of noises that just fired his already boiling blood hotter. His teeth ground at a particular kind of yowl that bordered on being a wail –the Arrancar weren't the only ones with instincts, particularly ones that went haywire at certain times. That type of yowl was basically a mating call, the man he was screwing mercilessly practically begging to be bitten and Marked as his Mate. He wanted to bite, to Mark him and make him his own for goddamn good, but…not like this. Tearing himself away, his voice nearly deserted him when Pantera cried out at the loss and came out as a hazy snarl. "On your back."

Obedience was immediate; it took him less than a second to thrust back into the pliant body and it felt like coming home. He could thrust harder now too, the one beneath more fully and comfortably braced with his entire back pressed to the soft moss. He let himself lick along his chest, torturing the larger man's nipples with his teeth and tongue for a few moments until he made that yowl-wail again and then he couldn't help growling and dragging his tongue up to the other's collarbone and sucking there to leave a small hickey. Pantera apparently understood the question, because he tilted his head to offer his neck and yowl-wailed again, louder. Ichigo no longer had the strength to resist that call- thrusting as deep and hard as he could possibly go, his teeth clamped down on the offered flesh where neck met shoulder and his jaw locked as he felt his teeth pierce the thick skin and blood filled his mouth. Pantera _yined_ at the top of his lungs and then howled as his claws dug into the teenager and he came so hard his eyes crossed. Conscious of his mate even in his ecstasy, and knowing he hadn't come with him, Pantera pressed closer, bringing that wonderful cock impossibly deeper, and wrapped his legs around the other's waist. This movement ground his prostate and triggered a second orgasm before the first had quite finished, his body furiously milking the still-rock-hard length inside him as he demanded in his shaky voice, breaking from the intensity, "C-come! Gi-give me m-my kittens, M-Mate! Lemme f-feel your p-pleasure!" With a roar, Ichigo did exactly that, continuing to thrust until the entirety of his seed had emptied into the body underneath him.

Both males collapsed in a sated, content heap, Pantera nuzzling close to his mate and slinging his arm around the smaller male's waist, careful of the bruising that lingered and mindful of the scratches he had inflicted himself. Ichigo licked the Mating Mark clean lazily, his legs entwining with Pantera's, and then tucked his head under the taller man's chin, his hand unconsciously straying to his new mate's stomach as he drifted to sleep. Pantera, more than satisfied (if he wasn't pregnant now, he was guaranteed to be in the future with a mate as young, strong, and virile as Ichigo), gave Grimmjow control back. Grimmjow blinked to find himself all cuddled up to the kid –his Chosen –and with the smell of recent sex in the air. He could feel several claw marks on his ribs, chest, and back, and his nipples were sore, and his neck…his neck was _throbbing_. Did the kid Claim him? Raising a hand to the base of his neck, he carefully felt it and sure enough, there was a small, barely-there raised bump in the skin, and when it traced it he found the shape to be something like two triangular stripes, almost like that of the noble demons of old. It must be the kid's Mark. Grimmjow couldn't help smiling softly down at the teenager sleeping on his chest, and while he was looking down he noticed something else that was rather important- his stomach was _whole_. There was only one thing that made your hollow hole disappear; he was _pregnant_. The panther settled in for a nap himself… and to think all this was the result of him being unable to get the image of Ichigo wearing _his_ Mark out of his head…

90. Control

Ichigo was used to being called all sorts of foul names, so much so he usually ignored them –Grimmjow was not a sweet man, and he was probably at his most vulgar when he was in his passion –but one thing he did not tolerate was being called the bitch of the relationship. Yes, Grimmjow fucked him. That didn't mean he didn't have just as much, if not more, control over Grimmjow as Grimmjow had over him. If anything, _Grimmjow_ was the bitch, because if Ichigo decided to withhold sex that man would do anything to get the cock blocking retracted. They had settled that during the first argument (which was so long ago they couldn't even remember what it had been about anymore) when the panther had left, declaring Ichigo would come crawling back to him soon enough. A month later, it had been the former Espada that came back, head hanging, bags under his eyes, hair unkempt, two sore wrists and an apology on his lips. He couldn't stand being away for any longer; he couldn't sleep without another warm body in his bed, and he was in withdrawal so deep his senses were starting to trick him to make him think he'd caught a faint scent or seen orange hair out of the corner of his eye. And he couldn't get the Berry's touch out of his head, couldn't get his taste out of his mouth, which resulted in at least a hundred erections he'd had to take care of himself because Ichigo wasn't there to help him out. So Ichigo didn't appreciate being referred to as Grimmjow's bitch, because between the two of them, they both knew full well Ichigo had the lion's share of the control.


	11. numbers 91 to 100

91. Fox

When Grimmjow (who was observing Ichigo solely for purposes related to battle, mind you) first heard the Kurosaki brat refer to somebody as a 'fox', he thought that meant they looked like Gin Ichimaru. Then he got an actual look at the man in question—he was…attractive. He looked _fuckable_ to be more accurate, so apparently calling someone a 'fox' was not an insult nor did it mean they actually looked like a fox. During more observation, he also learned the boy used terms like 'kitten', 'goblin', 'troll', and 'flaming' to describe people. There was a rare term he'd only heard once; 'panther'. The only irritating part was, he had no idea who Ichigo had been describing. 'Kitten' was short for 'sex kitten', he knew, so what rating would a 'panther' be? Really, all Grimmjow was sure of was that he himself only rated as a 'fox', and though that wasn't the best he could be, it was close enough to start groping the shinigami in battle the next time he saw him.

92. Crossworlds (My 'Gargoyle' universe meets Bleach!)

The last thing Aizen and the Espada had expected to happen at one of the weekly meetings was for a transformed shinigami to be dropped in their laps. Except…he only recognized one of them, and it wasn't Aizen. He _couldn't_ be the real Kurosaki. He was a strange creature with waist-length hair, a tail, wings, arched feet, claws for hands, horns, and a hell of a lot more muscle than a 15-year-old ever could have, even for someone as athletic and fit as Kurosaki. He spoke some strange language none of them could understand, though he knew Grimmjow by name and attached himself to the Espada's side, caressing his face, examining the hollow jaw and occasionally ranting something that sounded very vicious and violent. After the meeting, during which the strange Kurosaki-like creature was assigned to Grimmjow's care, of course, the creature did something that stunned Grimmjow beyond belief—he kissed him. Gently, more of a brush of lips than anything, but it boggled the Arrancar's mind. Meanwhile, Ichigo Kurosaki the human, was dealing with a very affectionate human Grimmjow, who was speaking a language he couldn't understand for the life of him but he knew had something to do with him since the not-Grimmjow knew him by name. The not-Grimmjow was also possibly the most physically demonstrative man he'd ever known, and he was enjoying that thoroughly even if he knew he probably shouldn't be. It was hard not to—the man knew every single—literally _every single_ soft spot and sensitive place on his body, and he was using that knowledge very thoroughly to his advantage. He had tried asking several times what the stranger was doing and how they knew each other, but not-Grimmjow understood him about as much as he understood not-Grimmjow; not one word. They managed some severely limited communication through gestures, but that was difficult and imperfect.

It also resulted in the not-Grimmjow almost constantly kissing some part of his face and very often straight on the mouth. Scolding didn't deter him in the least, so Ichigo had given up sometime after the twentieth kiss. He also seemed to be fascinated by Ichigo's entirely human body, running his hands again and again over his shoulder blades and tailbone, his hands, and his temples in awe. He fed the man, who was also apparently human, and after dinner consented to relax in his bed, the blue-haired stranger curled around him protectively and lovingly stroking his hair. He was consumed with Ichigo's short hair, as well—almost like he'd never seen anyone with hair so short. His own hair was long and braided, another thing that differed from Grimmjow. But what was probably most confusing was that he answered to that name even though he was clearly _not_ the Espada Ichigo had come to know. When he began licking up the side of his neck, though, that was going too far. Ichigo tugged away with a low growl that he hoped the other male would understand meant _knock that off_. Whatever signal he was reading, the man got the picture and settled down to sleep, beginning to snore lightly as Ichigo also drifted to sleep.

The teenager woke unexpectedly to something pressing against his tailbone and sending jolts of pleasure up and down his spine so intense he was gasping. With an alarmed noise he struggled to get away from it, but hard, tanned arms that wrapped around his waist held him back and the struggling only ground his tailbone against whatever it was harder, the pleasure so much that he saw white and blue spots for a moment. Not wanting to release in his boxers and not even know what had made him come, he went fully still, shuddering a little as he realized, after figuring out the positioning of the guy wrapped around him, exactly _what_ was digging into that soft spot so unyieldingly. It shouldn't be possible for a human penis to _be_ that hard. A hand slipped between his cheek and the pillow, turning his head so the not-Grimmjow could access his mouth, which he promptly leaned over to thoroughly kiss, once again grinding against that spot that made Ichigo see white. The teenager whined, unfamiliar with these feelings and the intense pleasure, but another hard press against his tailbone had blue and purple spots speckling his white vision. He came harder than he ever had in his life, arching with a low cry the stranger caught in his mouth and swallowed down with a satisfied purr. Wet heat pressed against his skin, above and below his tailbone, so he knew the other had cum too…and it was a strangely arousing thought that this man got off on getting Ichigo off. Nevertheless, they needed clean boxers and a shower, so he threw off the covers and got up, taking not-Grimmjow by the hand to lead him to the large bathroom to shower and soak in the huge tubs set into the floor. The shower was needed, and the tubs…were relaxing.

He took the other human out to the park the next day, relaxing on a bench while the stranger played with the kids, who he handled with adeptness that signified he was a father himself. The kids, who usually didn't bother with words anyway, had a much easier time communicating with him, and Ichigo found himself thinking that what he saw looked good. A handsome man who doted on him, lovingly chasing and playing with a gaggle of kids as he himself watched fondly. He liked this picture…he liked it a _lot_…he wanted it for himself…if only he could have it. But since the real Grimmjow was an Espada that hated his guts and was bent on killing him, this exact scene could never happen, and somehow he knew deep inside that unless he got _this_ it would always feel like there was something missing. Watching with soft eyes, he was surprised when a hand came from behind to tilt his head up using pressure under his chin and his lips were met with a pair of upside-down ones. Not-Grimmjow had come up behind him when he wasn't paying attention and was now kissing him with a kind of slow, burning passion that seemed to beg him to just give in and enjoy himself. It only took him a minute to break free of the spell though, breaking free for air and forcing himself to stand and turn his shoulder to the man to indicate his refusal. Whoever not-Grimmjow thought he was, he _wasn't_, and he just couldn't let the man screw up whatever he had with his lover or husband or whatever he thought Ichigo was because the blue-haired man had him confused with someone else.

Grimmjow couldn't understand it—any of it! First his Gargoyle mate, a Gargoyle for as long as he could remember, was a human just like himself. Then, for some reason he no longer spoke his native Gaelic but he wasn't speaking German (which Grimmjow had taught him) or Scottish or even English, but what sounded like Japanese, which Grimmjow only knew enough of to recognize. Now, he was rejecting Grimmjow's touch, and it was breaking his heart. Through sheer persistence he'd managed to get his beloved to accept his kisses and he was pouring as much emotion into each one as he could; whatever spell or curse had turned Ichigo human must've also erased his memory and Grimmjow would have to start over again with him. As he played with the children, laughing and tumbling like he did with their own brood when they'd still been small, he'd chanced a glance back at his mate and he'd _recognized_ that expression of loving tolerance for his foolishness, and had known that just for a moment his mate was himself again and couldn't resist kissing him like he always had. It had been slow, the flame of lust simmering just beyond the edges and he kitten-licked like he always did to encourage his little love to let the passion consume him. But Ichigo had hovered just beyond his reach and when he let him up for air turned away from him. Why? Fighting not to cry, he stood defeated and watched his love's shoulders shake with something…sorrow, or restraint, perhaps. No, that was only what he _wanted_ it to be. It was probably suppressed anger, or disgust. He was going to go, just disappear so his mate wouldn't be so uncomfortable, when a warm hand grasped his, fingers interlacing as he said something and pulled him along, giving him hope.

Ichigo was certain now that this was not _his_ Grimmjow, but he was _a_ Grimmjow nonetheless, and even if this was not his real mate he couldn't bring himself to leave him. Not when there was this _bastard_ here to torment him, using pressure from his spirit to force him not only to his knees on the floor, but to make him sick as a dog that had eaten monkshood. He snarled from the floor where he had his wings wrapped around the blue-haired male protectively, his tail lashing as his claws dug deep furrows in the floor. How _dare_ this bastard—Aizen. They called this man _Aizen_. Ichigo's eyes narrowed; during that time period his mate couldn't speak of unless in the throes of a regression into madness he had been tortured by a man named Aizen. He pounced. Still immortal, he ignored the injuries he received from the man's bodyguards and the man himself, grinning insanely when the bastard's sword lodged in his breastbone and held it there with one claw while he tore the man's throat out with the other. It was messy, it was bloody, and it was painful, but that was just the way he wanted it. The dark-skin went next, who would not stop stabbing him to try and avenge his fallen leader (perhaps he was the Gin that was also mentioned during the times of madness) and the silver-haired man surrendered, likely having figured out that Ichigo was immortal. Covered in blood, he removed the dead men's swords and broke them, then shook himself and returned to the man who looked like his mate, who had remained on the floor, watching with wide, unbelieving eyes. Ignoring the blood staining his skin and loincloth, he once again embraced the man.

Again at his house, Ichigo sighed as not-Grimmjow cozied up to his side, purring madly and occasionally giving his neck a lick or a nip. Half-asleep, Ichigo idly wondered if he was dreaming and didn't bother to protest, which seemed to make him bolder, advancing quickly to strip off his shirt and attach his mouth to his bare chest, leaving love bites everywhere and then moving up to his neck to suck and lick sensually, insistently, making Ichigo's head roll back over the arm of the couch to expose more skin. The other man made a sound of delight and attached his hands to the jean-clad hips, fingertips creeping delicately under the waistband to ask wordlessly if he could take them off. Ichigo's hips hitched up so the pants could be pulled off, and his boxers disappeared along the way, leaving him bare to the hungry blue gaze. Gently, lest he drag out an unfavorable response, not-Grimmjow lowered his lips to the taut stomach and thrust his tongue into the enticing bellybutton, then sealed his mouth over one hip and gave a firm suck with teeth to give it a good bruise that would mark him and linger for days to prove it had really happened. He was just about to move to the aching, hard flesh that was rubbing against his neck when he heard an exclamation from behind him—one in Japanese and one in Gaelic. He _knew_ that voice, _knew_ that particular melodic lilt to a naturally lilting language—his mate! More than startled, he pulled back and looked around, calling out for his heart. "Here, beloved," came from above, and then he was surrounded by familiar wings.

Watching the man who looked like himself with Kurosaki had, he admitted, been arousing. _That's_ what he looked like in passion? When the creature who looked like Kurosaki had shouted in surprise and the other him had called back in that same strange language, Grimmjow had known instantly that _that_ was who the creature had thought he was, and he was the rightful mate of the male at his side. As the two reunited, he watched curiously and noted out of the corner of his eye that Kurosaki had dragged a nearby afghan over his naked body and was watching the two with eyes so soft they had changed color, lightening to tea-brown instead of their usual chocolate. Intrigued, he migrated to behind the boy and watched from the same position. From here, he could see the sweet, loving way they kissed and caressed each other, the creature bearing no apparent ill will even though his mate had been about to lay with another only a moment ago. While the two pressed together so much it became hard to tell whether it was two people or one standing there, the same white vortex of light that had deposited them scooped them up again, spiriting them away, presumably back to wherever they had been taken from. Alone now, Grimmjow noted as he looked at the soul reaper that one, the boy looked good with love bites on his pristine tan flesh, and two, he was still hard as a rock and there was a particularly large hole in the weave of the afghan conveniently close to his dick...

Thoroughly inspired by their doppelgangers from another world, the Espada dropped to his knees and proceeded to fix the teenager's not-so-little problem, appeasing his own sadistic nature by twisting the cloth to create a makeshift cock ring out of the fabric he was accessing the hard flesh through when the boy got too close before Grimmjow had his fill. The two started having an official relationship a couple of weeks later and Ichigo constantly thanked the strange phenomena that had crossed his world with another and allowed him to get his man _and_ Aizen to get brutally murdered all in the same day.

Meanwhile, back in Ireland, Grimmjow was getting thoroughly punished for mistaking one Ichigo for the other through the use of erotic rope tying and so many orgasms he would be sore for days afterward.

93. Bet

Basking in the aftermath of one of the best fucks of his afterlife, Grimmjow was surprised when his bed mate, none other than Ichigo Kurosaki, rolled out of the bed and picked up a cell phone, then began dialing. Puzzled as to why the boy wasn't luxuriating in the afterglow, he propped his chin on his folded arms to listen in. "Yeah Renji, just finished and you own me ten thousand yen. I fuckin' told you so. Of course I didn't mention it to him! That would've produced incorrect results. Yeah yeah, fuck you too, I didn't enjoy myself tonight either so stop your goddamn whining. I gotta go soak so these aches aren't there in the morning. Goodnight." As Ichigo tossed his cell phone back on the desk and headed into the bathroom, Grimmjow's eyebrows drew together. The kid hadn't enjoyed himself and wanted to get _rid_ of the aches? In all his memory, alive and dead, he took pride in knowing he hadn't displeased a single lover and they'd kept the aches to remind them of his prowess for days afterward. How had he failed with a horny human teenager? Bothered by this, he huffed into the bed sheets causing his sensitive nose to pick up on what he'd been too orgasm-addled to realize previously. Ichigo's scent had started out as aroused and lusty as his own, but at some point that had been overlaid by flat irritation and something that smelled like _resignation_. The only release he could smell was his own, and that was a straight-out insult. It was one thing for your partner not to be involved in the sex, but when you performed so badly a hormone-ridden teenager didn't even _come_, that was beyond horrible; it took only the slightest effort to get them off and if you couldn't manage that you had no business having sex in the first place.

Distinctly off-balance by this discovery, Grimmjow was almost immediately embarrassed of his poor performance and ashamed of himself. Maybe he'd lost his touch and it'd taken a completely dissatisfied partner to make him see it. Little wonder the boy hadn't relaxed in the afterglow, he told himself bitterly, as the kid hadn't _had_ any afterglow. Feeling like a complete bastard (a very foreign feeling considering that the last time he'd felt that way was when he was human and alive) he got up and went into the bathroom to find out, in his usual blunt manner, exactly how bad he'd been. He found his bedmate up to his chin in hot water, eyes closed as he slowly relaxed. "Oi. So, uh…" unsure of himself for once, Grimmjow knelt by the tub and trailed his fingers over the top of the water, trying to figure out how to start; he went with the obvious. "So what was that about? Th'call, I mean."

Ichigo opened one eye, obvious surprise there before he closed it again. "Oh, you're still here. Just a lil' bet me and Renji had going. Nothing you need concern yourself with."

Grimmjow frowned. "Ya sound surprised I stuck 'round, shinigami. Expectin' other company?"

The boy snorted. "Jesus no. I would've dragged you to a hotel or deserted alleyway instead of letting you into my room if I expected my family or any guests to be home. Just didn't peg you for the type to stay when you're finished."

Grimmjow felt his frown deepening. "I'm feline, kid, that means I'm rather fond of the post-sex cuddle. Fond of cuddling in general, really." Deliberately trying not to let his frown become a pout, he hid his mouth behind the arm draped over the edge of the tub. "I'm not enough of a bastard to just up and leave right after fucking, not even when I was still an Adjucas."

Ichigo laughed, short and cold and bitter. "Like I said—never pegged you for the type."

Grimmjow felt his eyebrows pulling together, still embarrassed and ashamed, but now somewhat confused as well. "If you've got such a damned bad opinion o' me, then why the hell'd ya ever invite me inta yer bed in th'first place?"

Ichigo gave him a look, with an arched eyebrow and tilt to his mouth that was exactly like Aizen's that meant 'do you really have to ask?' before answering anyway. "To see what technique you favor. Your style of fucking and all that. Renji and I had a bet going. By the way, thank you for helping me win that bet."

Grimmjow felt his hair standing on end, though he couldn't quite figure out why. "What was your money on?"

Ichigo gave that short, cold laughter again as he brought his arms up to rest on the side of the tub. "That you fuck the way you fight- dominating, vicious, painful, and animalistic. At least I know the whole sex thing ain't for me, particularly if domination of any kind is involved."

That made the gears of Grimmjow's mind grind to a full _HALT_. It was horrifying enough not to have pleasured his partner, but he'd turned the kid off sex entirely? Or wait, wait, he said that 'the whole sex thing' wasn't for him…which sort of indicated it was the first time he'd tried it in the first place. Aw hell, he'd gone and completely ruined a _virgin_? The list of his worst nightmares coming true was getting longer as this night went on.

"Well, at least that's out of the way. I had to lose it sometime, and you're not bad-looking. Better than getting raped in an alley if and when I get overpowered by the gangs that stalk me."

Yep, longer and longer and longer. He should've never stuck his nose in when the boy went to make that phone call. "Well shit Ichigo… M'sorry. I would've at least been slower if ya'd told me ya'd never had sex before—I was figuring you had experience an' already knew what ya want…an' that ya'd tell me if what I was doin' somethin' ya din't like. I want ta pleasure my partners, not just satisfy m'self."

Burying his burning face in his arm, he raked his other hand through his hair. "I dunno how I missed when ya started losin' interest, I'm usually much better on th'uptake than that…I've never lost m'self so much I don't even notice that my lover ain't enjoyin' himself anymore. I've never had someone _resign_ themselves t'sex with me rather than actually _like_ it. If they decide they ain't likin' what I'm doin', they protest an' I adjust accordingly. Fuck, you don't know how sorry I am, Ichigo, how bad I feel fer doin' this t'you."

At this point, the teen looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Don't apologize, Grimmjow, you are who you are and I knew that going into it. I wasn't expecting any better than I got and I'm fine with it."

The panther visibly winced. "But ya _should've_ expected better, 'specially fer yer first time. That ya din't disturbs an' shames me." Noting Ichigo's discomfort at his remorse, he realized he was setting the kid off-balance, reacting differently than predicted. Ichigo expected nothing from him, and to receive apologies clearly upset his mental expectations. Deciding there may be a way to correct his mistake and make up for how poorly he'd performed, Grimmjow suddenly grinned and began climbing into the tub, his voice lowering to a purr. "Lemme make it up to ya, Ichi. Let's take care of another of yer firsts. An' I bet ya'll like this round a hell of a lot better." Ichigo apparently could not resist a bet, because he widened his legs with a weary sigh. "As you like, but I'm betting I like it no better than I liked it before, first or no." Lapping tenderly at the skin of the teen's chest, Grimmjow's voice rumbled through the room, heating the bodies of both men. "Oh, I'll take tha' bet, baby, 'cuz when yer buried balls-deep inside my tight ass I'm puttin' my money on ya not lastin' five minutes it'll be so good."

Ichigo's eyes sparked dangerously and his fingers gripped the blue hair and tugged lightly. "We'll just see about that, _baby_."

94. Halloween

Very few people knew that Ichigo not only listened to music, he listened to _American_ music. He owned a guitar and could play it, which again, very few people were aware of. Not a lot of people knew that much about his personal life in the first place, actually, and he liked it that way. The only things people needed to know about him was that he was male, could fight, and had orange hair. Thus it was that, when he was painting on a massive canvas, dark-themed music blasting in his ears, and singing along to the Manson version of "This Is Halloween", he expected nobody to come looking for him, nor for anyone to care if they did find him there. He was using a fine, three-hair brush for shading and the painting was nearly complete; he'd just stepped back to look at the view from further away when a loud exclamation from the window made him whirl around, ready for a fight. It was Grimmjow, staring into the room from the window with wide blue eyes and his mouth hanging open. With a sigh, he put his brush aside, unplugged his headphones, and started untying the painter's apron that was all he wore—he'd painted naked since he was a kid. His mom, before she'd died, had claimed it helped the "Creativity of Art" reach his arms and hands, and he'd just stuck with it. "Hi Grimmjow, lemme clean up a little and I'll come fight you in a minute or two."

Still looking a little stunned, the blunet quickly shook his head, eyes finally moving from the painting to Ichigo himself. "No! Uh, I mean, don't stop on account o' me, shinigami. I wouldn' wanna stop ya so close t'the finished project, after all. Ya…uh, title it yet?"

Retying his apron, Ichigo chuckled a little. "Everyone Hail to the Pumpkin King. That's what I'm calling it—though the title is clichéd. It doesn't matter anyway, since I'll be burning it in the morning."

Noting something off, he glanced between the painting and Grimmjow a couple of times before grabbing another brush and paint palette, starting to mix a new color. "Do me a favor, shut up and sit still," he murmured absently, adding and subtracting and tweaking the tiniest bit until finally he held the palette up beside Grimmjow's head, looked between the two, and smirked. "Perfect. Thanks." One blue eyebrow raised, Grimmjow watched as the teen grabbed the other brush and in sure, swift strokes, corrected the incongruence in his painting. That brush was quickly plunked in a jar of dirty (read BLACK-GREY DISGUSTINGLY FILTHY) water to keep the paint from drying in the bristles, and then again he returned to shading. Grimmjow couldn't stop his jaw from dropping in astonishment as the canvas came almost literally to life beneath Ichigo's brush, a macabre scene of murder, blood, gore, corpses, and one man standing tall in the center of all of it. Despite having seen it happen, he had to take a moment to control his bolt of irrational fear that it would animate itself and the figure would come after him next, which was ridiculous anyway because it was _him_ that stood on a throne of bodies; the claws, jagged teeth, and long mane of his released form was soaked in blood and gore was tangled in with his long blue locks, his tail dripping entrails and blood because he'd apparently swept or whipped it through the mess covering the ground. Finishing the last shadows of the armor, Ichigo dipped the shading brush into the tiny blob of orange paint he had handy and discreetly signed in the corner, beneath a blurry shadow and almost integrated into the gore pooled there.

Of course, as it has always been in the Living World, the spirit world lingered close on All Hallows' Eve, which just so happened to be the night that Ichigo completed this particular artwork, which just so happened to be a tribute to Halloween. As it happens, on All Hallows' Eve, the spirits are drawn to things that tribute them—not the cheap decorations most indulge in, but true tributes; Ichigo's happened to be one of these. Thus it was that, to his horror, Grimmjow witnessed the possession of Ichigo's painting, though he didn't know that's what it was at the time. The painted Grimmjow blinked, shook his head, and snorted almost silently. Ignoring the real Grimmjow's wide eyes, the painted male crouched down and sniffed delicately at the gore, then examined the signature in the corner, mouthing "Ichigo Kurosaki" before looking up. Grimmjow was discounted as unimportant and promptly ignored, and the false Pantera looked at the orange-haired man with adoration in his eyes. "Masssster Ichigo."

Sticking the brush behind his ear, he turned and looked directly at the painting, planting one hand on his hip. "Hello again, Keiri. How do you like this one?"

Testing his muscles, the canvas figure smiled with a mouthful of sharp teeth. "Very much, Massster. I thank you." As the painted Grimmjow bowed from the waist, Ichigo noticed the dumbstruck expression on the real one's face.

"Don't look so surprised, Grimmjow. I always paint a possessed painting on Halloween. It's how I keep life from gettin' boring in the meantime between fights and the latest attempt to take over the world by a previously unknown threat."

95. Masochist

He was a masochist—he had to be. Just being _near_ the human drove him crazy, and here he was, at the club the man _owned_ and _bartended_ at. Not only was the man himself present, his scent was layered over the entire place so thick it drove the vampire up the wall. Count Kurosaki reclined in a corner, sipping on a goblet of warm blood and trying to control his salivary glands as the scent of the bartender arrowed to him from across the room and made his fangs lengthen and itch. Every vampire had a human destined to be his for eternity, his 'shackle' or rather, his 'cuff'. It was a bit like a human husband or wife, except it was chosen for you by Destiny or the Fates and it was impossible to deny. When a vampire found his shackle, he would wear one vambrace—forearm armor that had fallen out of usage these days—and present the other to his or her shackle, showing the claim each had on the other. The armor served as the vampiric version of a human wedding ring. Ichigo, however, had not presented his shackle with the vambrace that matched the one on his left arm yet (dark red leather with bronze fittings and outer edges, blue and orange detailing twining together on the leather) because of a simple fact—his shackle could not tolerate vampires. Grimmjow Jaggerjack, his blue-haired spitfire mate, had lost his entire family to an attack from a rogue vampire that had been blood-mad and starving. And so, each night Ichigo came here to watch his shackle from across the club, drank a little donated blood, and tortured himself with the nearness of the mate he was sure would never accept him. Something was a little strange tonight, though…he'd never known his fangs to itch like this before, or the venom in his salivary glands to flow so freely.

Wondering if he had perhaps been drugged, he frowned and peered into the glass, giving it a careful sniff. Pure human blood, willingly donated, though the donor had been more than a bit nervous and unsure at the time…and the donor was male. He had been in good health, and was young in age, probably around his mid-twenties…his fangs throbbed, forcing him to put down the glass and cover his nose as they lengthened and sharpened. He was well-fed and one of the more 'human' vampires in nature, not having allowed his immortality to barbarize him as other, older vampires did, so this strong of a reaction to blood mildly frightened him. He'd never reacted this intensely to blood except when he'd first changed, and after his first feeding that had subsided. Alarmed at his own body, he quickly downed the last of the blood (even if he knew it was a mistake he couldn't stand to let it go to waste; he was right, it was a bad idea, it made his fangs lengthen so they protruded from his mouth and that _itch_ was getting unbearable) and disappeared in a swirl of shadow. Arriving after a moment in his twin brother's enormous estate, he cried out for Shiro and his bleached twin was at his side before the echo had cleared. Grasping at his older brother's cloak, fangs at full length, scared out of his mind now, Ichigo looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Shiro, something's wrong with me and I don't know what's happening! I've never had a reaction this strong since I've been turned, especially not to cold, donated blood! What's going on, Shiro-nii?" Embracing his twin, the albino soothed his panicking sibling and tried to make sense of his fear.

Grimmjow had heard of them, vampires that didn't want to hurt anyone and would remove themselves if they thought they might lose control, but he'd never seen one before now. The regular from the corner furthest from the bar was a vampire, he could tell a mile away, but he'd order just one small goblet of blood for the evening and have that be the end of it. He usually mixed up the drink himself for the man, and it was simply half a pint of donated blood—he didn't even ask for it heated like most other vampires did. The monthly blood supply had run out last night and he hadn't gotten his new shipment in yet, and for some reason he didn't want his most regular patron going to some other bar for blood, so he'd filled the goblet tonight with his own blood and served it still hot from his veins. Apparently, the count hadn't tasted still-warm blood since his creation and had reacted stronger than any vampire he'd ever seen, his eyes beginning to glow in the darkness as his fangs lengthened. The moment he finished the blood he wrapped himself in shadow and disappeared, looking afraid of his own reaction and probably scared he would hurt someone if he didn't flee. Grimmjow knew his blood was considered a delicacy by vampires, the blood of his family having some extra quality to it that made them drunk and addicted, but he'd never thought he'd so thoroughly be able to disturb and drug someone as strong as a Count with his blood. He'd never seen the Count so feral.

Once he had figured out what had Ichigo in such a state, Shiro fed his brother and laughed. "It's just the- ah!- the effect yer cuff's blood has on y- yah! Ohhh, Ichi, yer being rough t'day. You'll have the same re-re-ach-tion every time ya smell 'r taste it until ya've claimed 'im- aaah! I kin feel yer teeth in my collarbone, aniki, let up!"

When he finally finished feeding, his teeth retracted to almost the size of human teeth, his shaking finally stopped. Resting their foreheads together, he panted, ignoring the small purring noises his brother made when he licked up the blood that had escaped his mouth. "Isn't there any way to moderate my reaction to him? He hates vampires, a rogue killed his family, and I couldn't bear to scare him away. I don't want to go feral every time I get within a meter of him."

Shiro shrugged, licking a thumb and using the saliva to seal the large wounds his brother had left behind. "Go out with me at yer side, or bite yerself. Vampire blood is th'only thing that'll keep ya sane when proximity to yer cuff makes ya go feral."

Ichigo sighed, rubbing his wrist through the glove that encased it. "Looks like I'll be a masochist after all."

96. Mine

Catching fireflies at midnight with his little sister wasn't something he'd planned for the first week of summer vacation, but Grimmjow had to admit it wasn't half bad. It took him back to one of the few fond memories of his own childhood and reminded him that though innocence couldn't last forever, he could make sure it lasted a damn long time. The fireflies were particularly brilliant tonight as well, so bright they almost seemed to be glowing different colors. She would catch the tiny lights in her jar, stare at them through the glass for a moment or two, then proceed to dump them back out and catch another. The lights in turn seemed to play _with_ her, drifting closer and further in waves, teasing her but then letting her catch them again. Then one particular light, glowing a distinct orange deeper in color than the pale-bright hues around it, fluttered over and settled on Grimmjow's head. He felt it, sitting on a lock of hair dangling over his forehead, and rolled his eyes when his sister laughed at him. That's when he heard it—bells. Little, chiming bells that sounded almost like laughter, ringing through the air clear as crystal.

Nel, her eyes shining, giggled and clapped her hands. "He says he likes you, big brother! But he thinks your hair is shaped funny."

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow and felt the movement jiggle the strand, which resulted (to his surprise) a small man clothed in flower petals dangling from the hair strand right in front of his eye, scowling at him as translucent golden wings bigger than his body began to whirr to hold him up. "Sorry," Grimmjow chuckled, and the little man scowled harder, the blood-red petals he wore seeming to bristle.

"Screw you, human! Just because you're bigger than me-" Grimmjow cut him off, cupping his palm and bringing it up under the orange-haired male's legs and butt to startle him into dropping into his hand. "Now wait just a minute," he scolded, "that's not why I'm laughin'. Ya just looked pretty funny hangin' from my hair like that is all."

Despite not actually intending to fly, the wings buzzed intermittently. "Oh. Okay. I'm Prince Ichigo of the Feyfolk. Who are you?"

The human grinned. "I'm Grimmjow, big brother to Nel. Pleased ta meetcha."

The little Prince nodded, then his wings whirred into a blur of golden motion and Grimmjow felt him set down in his hair again. "My human," he declared from his perch (where, though Grimmjow couldn't see, he was nearly lost in the thick blue locks), "nobody else can have 'im! Mine," he muttered, fisting the hair close to his scalp. He couldn't fucking _wait_ until he could hear the entire spell and get human-sized. _"Mine."_

97. Yours

His pet was no longer responding to him. Sure, he answered when he called, did whatever he bade him to, submitted when he dominated him, but he wasn't _responding_. He wasn't rising to any of the bait, no longer flushed with anger and snapped at him when he called him any demeaning, humiliating name he could come up with, didn't offer even token resistance to _anything_. He didn't like it, not in the least. His pet was prettiest when he was flushed with anger, eyes blazing, fingers clenching, teeth grit—ah, how beautiful he was in his anger! But…he never saw him angry anymore. His pet was pretty in his embarrassment too, red-stained cheeks and shy eyes, lids lowered and worrying his lower lip between his sharp canines. He never saw him embarrassed anymore, either. Just _blank_, a horrible blankness and emotionless actions and words that he had never seen from his pet before. Setting his jaw, Grimmjow called his pet to him. "Kuro- Ichigo, c'mere." When he had his little shinigami settled in his lap, he wrapped his arms around the slim body (so cold, he was, cold like death, why hadn't he _said_ anything?) and rested his chin in the orange hair. "What's th'matter, Ichigo? You haven't been yourself lately."

The younger man was very still, something that alarmed Grimmjow because Ichigo _always_ squirmed uncomfortably when he was pulled into the bigger man's lap. "Nothing is wrong. Sir."

The panther flinched. He'd originally ordered Kurosaki to call him either '-sama' or 'sir' when addressing him for kicks, because he liked watching those eyes blaze hotter as he ground the word out from between clenched teeth, but now it was just a flat statement, a form of address with no emotion at all attached, and it disturbed him more than anything. "There has to be, you've—I rescind the order to call me 'sir', by the way, call me whatever you want—you've lost your fire, your fight. I _love_ that fight in you, so I've been careful to encourage it unless it's towards someone who'll kill you, so what happened? Did Aizen punish you?"

There was a slight hesitation before he answered, less than the span of a blink, and Grimmjow knew it for what it was. "No, Aizen never punished me."

"But _someone_ has," Grimmjow pressed, "and it wasn't me, so who? Who was it and what did they do to so deeply affect you?"

At last, some movement, his leg shifting just the slightest bit as the subject matter made him uncomfortable. Maybe there was hope for the fiery Kurosaki to come back after all. "When you were on a mission last month, Ulquiorra-sama deemed fit to…remind me of my station here. He also saw fit to teach me that those of higher rank than my owner can and will take what they want of me because they surpass your strength." Grimmjow felt a chill prickle his tough skin for several reasons. Ulquiorra had touched, had _taken_ what was his, _broken_ him, to the point where Ichigo didn't even have enough left in him to hate being owned like an object anymore. He used to spit the word 'owner' like it was a curse word, now…it was just a fact. But Ichigo continued, "I had been under the mistaken impression that I was singularly _yours_, and this has now been corrected."

Grimmjow growled, low in his throat, and abruptly reached up and undid the collar that kept the shinigami's reiatsu restrained, the suppressed pressure exploding through all of Las Noches when the suppressor fell to the bedspread. He'd originally kept it on at all times so the soul reaper couldn't kill him in his sleep; at this point he knew that was no longer a worry and the kid needed to defend himself.

"Stay here and let no one, _absolutely no one_ touch you, am I clear?"

The teen blinked at him, then nodded. "Yes, Grimmjow."

Pausing to observe the raw, blistered and calloused skin where the collar had been, the Espada amended, "If the healer comes before I get back, you may let him touch you to take care of your neck. But other than that, nobody." Another nod and he was out the door, on his way towards the one person he never thought he'd be going to for help—Tousen. He stopped on the way to bark an order through the door of the Healer's room to send somebody to fix his pet's neck, and by the time he reached the door of the bastard's room he'd worked himself up into a fine fury. "Tousen-sama."

The man paused, turning sightless eyes to the panther. "Grimmjow? What has happened?"

A low growl underscored Grimmjow's words as he explained what had happened. Contrary to what Ulquiorra had told Ichigo, since Aizen had arrived it was no longer allowed to take or touch the property of another just because you outranked them. Tousen was the one who punished those who broke this rule. Property was _not_ communally owned and you were never, _never_ supposed to screw with a living, sentient pet of another. Pets were, above all, to be treated with at least a measure of respect. By breaking this rule, breaking his _pet_, Ulquiorra had very likely turned a potential ally entirely against them and created a dangerous enemy. No matter how calm he was on the outside, he was likely desperate to escape and would do anything to get away from both the man who had hurt him and moreover the men who _could_. A desperate enemy was an enemy without hope, and enemy without hope quickly became suicidal, and a suicidal, desperate enemy was the most dangerous kind. Tousen understood this.

Ulquiorra's punishment was unusually brutal, but highly satisfying, and Grimmjow memorized every moment so as to report it to Ichigo later. As Tousen had said, "The Kurosaki boy is yours to do with as you wish and punish or reward as you see fit. Other Espada, even Ulquiorra, have no right to harm what Aizen-sama has given you."

98. Ours (Continuation of Masochist)

Naturally, Shiro was interested in his brother's human. As twins, they had shared things all their lives; parents, trouble, vampirism, a noble title, prey…but seeing as the cuff was chosen _for_ you, they would likely have ones that were in no way related to each other. He wanted to know who it was and if he or she was worthy of his big/little brother. While they'd been human, Ichigo was older, but since Shiro had been turned first, vampires counted him the older twin, and they had a complex relationship. Part of this was looking out for each other in some of the most obnoxious but loving ways. They went together to the club, and Shiro was absolutely amazed to learn that Ichigo's human was not only male, but… yet another thing they shared. He was barely within the confines of the club and already he was biting into Ichigo's shoulder to control his overflowing venom and lengthening teeth. His brother winced, but didn't otherwise react, leading him to a table far in the back, as far as they could get from the bar. After a moment, the blue-haired barkeep appeared in front of them and Shiro had to bite harder and lock his jaw—he'd never known how strong the effects of proximity to your unclaimed cuff could be until now. How his brother had withstood this for the better of three months he had no idea. "I take it yer guest is rather…hungry? Bigger order than usual, yeah?"

Ichigo petted his brother's hair, looking rather surprised. "I guess so. I don't know why, he fed just before we came…" suddenly Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Shiro, is your shackle here? Is that what's making you act this way?"

The other vampire groaned. "We share even more than I thought, brother," was mumbled around the shoulder in his mouth, and Ichigo felt his blood run hotter. He loved his brother and he would love his shackle someday, and to be able to keep them both close was a gift he'd never thought he'd have. But there was still the issue of their shackle despising vampires…being mated to two of them probably wouldn't help their case.

"Er, sorry to bother you, Count, but… what do you mean by 'shackle'? Is he going to go feral?" Gritting his own teeth against the slight itch, Ichigo looked up at their shackle with a small, strained smile. "Considering he's almost trying to drain me dry, he won't be going feral any time soon. His—rather, _our_ shackle is our destined mate, also apparently destined to be shared by us, chosen by Fate. Since he is still unclaimed, being close to him is…excruciating and intense. We don't wish to frighten him, so we're doing our best to control ourselves. This is my brother's first time being exposed to him, so he's…having a bit of trouble."

Looking curious, the barkeep tilted his head. "Is that what made _you_ go feral the other night, if I may be so bold?"

Ichigo shivered. "Yes…it was my first taste of our unclaimed shackles' blood, and I was entirely unprepared for the intensity of it. I had to remove myself before I claimed him against his will."

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed. "So _I'm_ your shackle? Your Fate-designated mate for all eternity?" The Count looked a little alarmed, but nodded. He was starting to look slightly pale, probably from all the blood his brother was continuing to drain. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

The orange-haired male looked away, swallowing hard. "I was under the impression you harbored a hatred of vampires. I didn't want to offend you." The human scoffed, though deep inside he was a little touched. He didn't know why, but he wanted the vampire to care, to consider him before doing things. "Hard to be offended over something you have no say in deciding. So basically you two need to share me?"

"Well, yeah."

Grimmjow chuckled, offering his wrist to the still-paling vampire. "Well then, you can consider me yours."

"Ours," Shiro corrected around his mouthful.

99. Hollow

Ichigo hadn't expected it in any way shape or form. He'd been dumped here, in the dimension belonging solely to Hollows, by his own comrades after they deemed him 'dangerous', and he'd expected that to be his immediate death sentence. His slight tinge of hollow reiatsu, however, was apparently enough to intrigue the hollows more than anything. He was now being scrutinized by the piercing blue gaze of a large feline hollow covered in bone armor. The tears in his academy uniform, the two swords gripped in his left hand, and his insanely bright orange hair were all brought under visible consideration, making him shift uncomfortably.

_"Who are you, Shinigami?" _He started at the voice, a deep rumble that would've made his knees shake had he been a lesser man. Luckily, he was a greater man- anyone who could go toe-to-toe with Aizen-taichou and survive was.

"Kur-" he paused. Did he really want to be associated with the people who had given him his name when he entered the Academy?

"Ichigo. Just…Ichigo."

The hollow eyed him a little more, then turned his shoulder to the soul reaper and walked a couple of steps. _"I'm Grimmjow. Ya comin'?"_

Ichigo blinked, then docilely trailed after the massive cat, his swords loosely clutched in his hand. "Mmmkay. Do you mind if I'm a we?" Another glance over the shoulder.

"_A __**what**__?"_

"A 'we'." He raised his two swords, slim blades with one black and one white. He realized briefly that he was still in Bankai. "There's three different people inside my head."

"_Che. I don't care, just keep 'em under control. Do the others have…names?"_

Ichigo chewed on his lip. "White Servant and Moon Cutter. Servant's a hollow though. He likes you."

Grimmjow snorted. _"Considerin' yer in a world o' hollows now, ya'd better get used ta listenin' ta us."_

Now it was Ichigo's turn to snort. "I'm part-hollow. I've nothing against 'em. You. Us. Against _hollows_. Hard to hate something you happen to be about half of."

100. Patience

Grimmjow was quickly learning that his offspring was possibly the most infuriating on the planet. Every shred of patience he'd learned over the years in preparation to meet his Ichigo again was being pushed to the limit. His brat—their brat, now—was doing everything in his power to drive the man who sired him insane. He made sure they were never alone for a romantic reunion, any time Grimmjow screwed up around the house Jackal would maximize the mistake, and he made particular effort to ensure that Ichigo's screams and muffled whimpers haunted Grimmjow's sleep as much as they haunted Ichigo's. Still, every predator had to have patience unlimited in order to stalk and catch their prey, and he would endure absolutely anything to the furthest limits of his patience to earn his second chance.

He was rewarded handsomely when, four months of this later, Jackal was sent to a friend's house for a week and Ichigo presented him with a gold band that matched one that had appeared on his ring finger. He was very, _very_ handsomely rewarded indeed… and he thanked the Gods he'd had patience.

_**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE!**_

Alright, since these were supposed to be done by the end of summer and they are _not_, I have to pay a penalty! For each of my lovely regular reviewers (Pyro D, Eternal Love's Eclipse, my other lovelies…you know who you are) I award a prize- you may choose only ONE of the three (though I may make concessions for other prizes…pm me about 'em):

1. Three prompts of your choosing, though length will have to be up to me

2. A one-shot with the pairing and/or setting/theme of your choosing

3. A cameo appearance of the reviewer, inclusion of one of the reviewer's characters, or a plot twist in my ongoing story All The Right Hormones, All The Wrong Times that is provided by the reviewer and sent to them for inspection before publishing in the eighth chapter (since I'm already halfway through the seventh)

Anyone who has reviewed a previous chapter may choose one of these prizes, and if you haven't reviewed before but provide some honest opinions about my work, including constructive criticism (but NO FLAMING) then you may also choose the first or second prize, though the third is reserved for my regular lovelies because it's rather difficult to do for authors like me, who write in totally inspired off-the-cuff bursts.


	12. numbers 101 to 110

101. Alien

Grimmjow couldn't believe this- he _could not believe it_. He had been shipped off to this backwater little planet with virtually _no_ interstellar traffic simply because some hotshot looking to make a fast trillion had gone and shot him in the shoulder. Then, one of the strange-smelling crystal creatures he occasionally saw flitting around the island had come out of nowhere and tranquilized him before he had a chance to get more than a few mouthfuls of the thing that had shot him and dragged him off to a containment of some kind. He was just as quickly brought here to get him fully healed because _apparently_ he was one of the last seven or possibly ten Pantaourus left in existence. Despite being a little backwater planet, this place also supposedly had the best creature medical facilities for galaxies around, thus why he was here. He'd been transported to an impossibly deep pit with sides higher than most trees that were made out of a strange stone that he couldn't climb (which of course severely pissed him off- it was the first thing he'd ever discovered that he couldn't climb one way or another). He wasn't alone though, and that was a small comfort. He'd been alone so long he'd almost forgotten what anything that wasn't prey or plant looked like. There was a pretty creature that looked a lot like himself one pit over, though he was spotted and a bit smaller. He wasn't full sized by any means yet, though, so he guessed they'd be roughly the same size when full grown. There was a weird clear barrier between their pits that they could talk through, and though he could probably break the barrier if he tried he was trying to keep out of trouble so he could go home sooner.

The pretty male was splayed out on a rock in the sun at the moment, his eyes closed and a soft purr barely audible through the barrier. He was hurt too, one of his ears shredded and his face clawed on that side, his tail broken and his back left leg wrapped. He looked like he'd been trounced by about four adult males at once, and he didn't move around much because he always limped when he had to walk. Grimmjow tapped the barrier with his paw pad softly to get the pretty male's attention. "Hello." The uninjured ear twitched and the scarred eye lazily flicked open. "Hello yourself. Panther?" The bigger male's ears half-flattened in confusion. "I…don't know what that means. My name is Grimmjow, and the things that brought me here said I was something called a Pantaourus. What's a 'panther'?" The eye shut again. "This world's version of your species. Black cats about my size. My name is Ichigo. I'm a leopard." Curling his tail around him, Grimmjow lay down on his side of the barrier, moving gingerly to account for his shoulder. "What happened to you? You look like you got thrashed." "I was," the yellowish cat replied, his whiskers pressing inward angrily as he bared his teeth, "by ten males in territories around mine because I had the most hunting land. They knew they couldn't take me one-on-one so they teamed up and took me by surprise. I suppose a hunter got you?" Grimmjow nodded. They didn't talk again for some time; their next contact was because they had been placed in the same containment area, a flimsy metal barrier with many holes in it the only thing that separated them. Grimmjow could've torn it apart with one claw as easily as he would gut a Timoron. Ichigo was no longer limping and Grimmjow was almost completely healed, though they were keeping him until he could hunt again.

"I see you're well on the way to being back to normal." Ichigo paused in his washing at the comment, turning the scarred side of his face to look at Grimmjow searchingly. "Yes. You look…well." Grimmjow batted at the metal barrier, then dropped his front and raised his rear as his tail swished playfully. "I _feel_ good. Think we can get the non-furred prey to let us into the same pit? I want to play and you're the only other felid I know." Ichigo backed away, ears flattening uneasily and Grimmjow rose to a normal stance, confused. "If you want to play, bat at the grass or the walls and the hairless apes will give you non-living toys to play with. I don't play." More confused, Grimmjow checked Ichigo's scent- yeah, he was still young enough to enjoy playing with others. Why didn't he want to? Rubbing his body along the flimsy metal, he watched with sharp eyes as Ichigo backed up further, claws unsheathing, ears flattening, tail pressing flat along his side and his lips drawing back to bare his teeth as he hissed and spat. All of it was highly aggressive, preparing for a fight. Backing up obediently, the larger cat guessed Ichigo probably still felt vulnerable because Grimmjow was more healed than he was and thus more powerful. He decided his next approach would be highly passive and as nonthreatening as possible. To his luck, that came the very next sun-time.

The non-furred prey (had Ichigo called them hairless apes?) had just gotten in a bunch more hurt animals, and since Grimmjow had been completely nonaggressive so far he was put in the same pit as Ichigo and two other cats temporarily. One was smaller than Ichigo and had long, thin legs but a really long tail and strange spot markings with two black tracks from it's eyes to it's mouth, and the other looked exactly like Ichigo but white in color. The smaller one was called a 'Cheetah' and his name was Ulquiorra, and the white one was called Shiro. Ulquiorra was the most apathetic creature he'd ever known, and didn't cause trouble, but Shiro was an aggressive pain in the ass and he made Ichigo tremble when he got close. It was after he got _too_ close that Grimmjow found out Ichigo trembled not with fear, but with aggression of his own. Shiro was brutally dominated in a flash of blood and claws and teeth and fur, and his submission was absolute when offered and accepted. Grimmjow, having scented the blood this brought when Ichigo's wounds were strained, approached cautiously, head low and ears flat, tail straight out, creeping forward on his belly to show he meant no harm. Ichigo's hackles were up, but he was sitting more or less calmly, his tail-tip the only thing that betrayed his suspicion. He let Grimmjow approach and they met peacefully, mouths open to take in each other's scents, and after a moment of examination they touched noses for an instant and then broke contact. The off-world feline purred (it was rare, he knew, that felid creatures performed that last move with anyone outside the immediate family- it was _way_ too risky because it exposed your vulnerable throat) and licked the blood from the yellow cat's muzzle.

Having established this trust, letting Ichigo lick him back, he quickly moved on to bathe the smaller male's wounds with his tongue. For some reason he didn't want to examine too closely, he didn't like knowing Ichigo was bleeding. He normally relished the smell of blood, but the smell of Ichigo's somehow offended him on a deep, instinctual level. He didn't bother questioning it. Ichigo reacted favorably to this, merely yawning and cleaning Grimmjow in return, establishing a friendship, before laying on the sun-warmed stone and going to sleep. He enjoyed that display of trust and lowered his body next to Ichigo, feeling Shiro and Ulquiorra surrounding them loyally. This felt…warm, and comforting…it felt like his pride had before his father had abandoned him in the forest to be eaten by wolves. Fucker. Grimmjow was a magnificent specimen of his species and this had been visible even as a cub, so his father had clawed the shit out of him and tossed him into wolf territory to get him killed and/or eaten to remove him as a threat to the other dominant male. Since it had been a female that found him, her pup in her mouth as she fled what was probably another pack's territory, he'd been incredibly lucky; seeing as the other wolves had killed her other four pups, she'd been unable to bear leaving him to fend for his own food (if he survived the pack) when her own dugs hung heavy with more milk than she could feed her lone pup who was the runt of the litter. She'd slung him onto her shoulder and ordered him to hold on, taking him to safety and nursing him back to health, raising him as her own. He held a sort of pack instinct due to this.

When they woke, the earth cats found Grimmjow was gone- since he'd been healed, they guessed he had been taken back to his own planet. Eventually, they were brought out to the savannah they came from and released. By this time, Ulquiorra and Shiro had become his pride, and when he went to reclaim his territory both fought like demons at his side. The ten weakling males were sent far, far away, their territories claimed so all three would have ample room to hunt. Ulquiorra was the first to do it. Rather than dragging his kill beneath a bush to gorge on it as was customary, he brought it back home- or rather, the tree the three shared as a sleeping place. He'd already eaten his portion, of course, but _he'd brought them his kill_. This would be understandable if one of them was sick or injured and couldn't hunt for themselves, but all were perfectly healthy and hunting for themselves was easy. Ulquiorra began doing it with all of his kills, and after perhaps a quarter-moon Ichigo followed suit. Shiro, completely subservient to Ichigo, naturally followed Ichigo's example. It was Shiro who made the next change- bringing home his kill without eating his portion first. It stemmed from his total submission to Ichigo- now that they were sharing kills, to him it felt wrong to eat before his Leader. Ichigo, flattered immensely by this, began to do the same, and Ulquiorra was only a day behind. At that point it was agreed that whoever had brought the kill got the first bite and the other two would join him at the kill, all three eating at the same time.

It had been Ichigo who initiated the final phase that separated them from all other cats. Having observed that the wild dogs could bring down much bigger and stronger prey than any of them could have taken on alone, he spoke of this to his pride-mates and suggested they try it. It took nearly a moon phase, and _many_ missed prey animals, but eventually they learned how to take down big-horns like the lions did, even the occasional long-nose calf. The majority of their strategies revolved around coupling Ichigo's brute strength with Ulquiorra's speed and with Shiro laying in wait should the pair fail to bring it down. They had just finished their meal one day when a large feline appeared at the edge of the clearing; a threatening growl echoed from the cat, which was revealed by a change in the wind to be a lion. The small pride closed ranks and snarled as one. If they were lucky, it would be a lone adolescent male looking to take their territory, but if it they were not…even as strong as they were, they probably couldn't take on a pride of lions. Those lionesses were _way_ better than the three-male pride when it came to attacking as a group. Things were not looking good as eight lionesses emerged from behind the dominant male, and ears slicked back, tails curling inward as claws unsheathed and hisses and spits began to fill the air. Before the battle could really begin, a roar startled all present into flight- the lions back onto the savannah, and the three males up their tree. Though lions and leopards also called and roared, this was infinitely louder than anything they'd ever heard and was wrapped in a death threat they dare not provoke. It almost didn't sound like an Earth animal. As a matter of fact, _it wasn't_. It had been roughly two monsoons ago that they met and formed their pride, leaving them ample time to fully mature- even the otherworldly feline they had once known for a short time in the healing place.

Grimmjow stalked from the underbrush to the base of the tree. Having reached his mature size of eight hundred Earth pounds, six feet of height, and ten feet in length (not including his tail) he was almost three times the size of his former companions and an impressive specimen even among his own kind. Naturally, this meant he was more or less King of the Savannah- a deadly predator the size of a fast-hoof-prey (the non-furred prey called them a strange word, 'HOR-sss') was not only visibly intimidating, but physically extremely strong and fast. He had picked up a familiar scent trail and tracked it to find the beautiful cat he'd lost when he escaped the healing place. He was happy to be healed and all, but they were going to send him back to his planet, where he was always lonely and hunting was hard, and the only others of his kind answered to the father that tried to kill him. He needed to stay here, even if he didn't truly belong. Having scared off the lions, he approached the base of the tree with hopefully perked ears, tail swishing, and called quietly. After a tense moment, he heard three low voices call back and Ichigo thudded to the ground, tail half-raised in wary welcome and Shiro and Ulquiorra following right behind him. Thoroughly pleased, he dropped his entire body down and nuzzled the much smaller cats happily, purring the entire time as he licked and rubbed against them. Still a little cautious around something as big as him, they rubbed back.

It took very little time to acclimate to having Grimmjow in their group; while he was obviously an Alpha male, Grimmjow was the youngest and thus chose to defer to Ichigo since the other two already did so. It wasn't actually necessary for him to obey anyone seeing as he was the biggest, strongest, and fastest, but he was young and he didn't know nearly as much as Ichigo seemed to- any question he had, Ichigo could answer, even if he had a bit of trouble explaining things properly sometimes. For instance, once mating season arrived and Grimmjow, who hadn't been mature enough to be pulled into the season during previous years, started to question what the hell was wrong with his body. Ichigo's explanation went badly for a few moments as he didn't know the words to describe mating, so after a while he got frustrated, instructed Grimmjow to follow him, and went out and gave a very graphic demonstration. And when Grimmjow inquired if males could mate other males, answered with an affirmative and an affectionate chuff of breath. It was during this first mating season together that it was discovered Grimmjow could adjust his size to suit the situation- anywhere from his natural fast-hoof-prey size to the size of a cub. This proved to be very useful when he wanted to actually mate with a cat that was much smaller than his natural size. And so the alien began to learn properly all the things he would need to know to pretend to be an Earth creature.

Prince

He really, _really_ hadn't expected to get stranded in the middle of a forest during his diplomatic mission to Keeva. He was a desert man, he didn't know how to survive in a goddamn forest! His worthless legs had given out on him, too unused to the sturdy dirt after being raised on giving sand, though he handled the hills easily thanks to the countless dunes he'd been climbing up and down since he was a child. Laid out on his side, he heard a low, feline growl, and looked around to see what. An angry, flat-eared feline, he thought it was called a _bob-cat_, was snarling from the edge of the clearing, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. He huffed. "Dunno what yer problem is, bu' if I'm in yer land I'm sorry, bu' I can't move." It hissed, and something small and furry rubbed up against his sides, outstretched arms, and face. Raising his eyes to his arms, he discovered why the bigger cat was so incensed- her _kittens_ were all over Grimmjow, mewing and purring happily. Still too weak to move, he just laughed and let them climb on him like a sand dune, twitching his fingers slightly to rub one of the shyer kits behind the ear.

The mother approached slowly, anxious about her kits but wary of the Big Strange Thing that smelled like the Hot Deathplace, even though It hadn't moved. She was nervous, but more concerned for the kits cavorting around It's legs and belly. If It felt threatened by them, it could easily crush them with it's Big body. Worse, It was a dominant male, and if It decided to take over her territory she would probably have to submit to him. It seemed content for the moment, however, rustily purring return greetings to her bravest kit, who was dangerously close to it's open mouth, sharp teeth just visible behind parted lips. Another kit leaped on It's hip, slipping down to It's stomach and digging in his claws for traction, making It wince. Slowly, and mindful of the other kits, It bent up and around, making her unsheathe her claws in preparation to get It's deadly teeth away from her kit, opened It's mouth and- nudged him off It's belly with a low thrum of amusement. Then it rolled onto It's front, using one of It's oddly-shaped forelegs to push the kits clear, and laboriously got up onto all fours. All It's bones cracked as it did, and the kits all sat right where they were, ears straight up in fascination. They'd never heard that sound before. Straightening up onto the middle joint of It's backward-bending legs, It arched out, making it's spine make a lot of cracks and pops one after the other, and brought It's body more back until It's long back legs were splayed out in front and It's back was against a tree, forelegs hanging oddly alongside It's body instead of in front of It's shoulders. It's backwards leg joints folded, bringing It's legs into a strange crossed position, forepaws coming to brace themselves in front of them. The kits, delighted with the strange ways their new friend could bend, immediately began exploring It again.

Grimmjow closed his eyes to ease his headache and leaned more of his weight against the tree. The kits were literally all over him, pawing, licking, and nipping at him, but he didn't mind; they were just curious. Though they spoke a slightly different dialect than Panther, he could understand them well enough.

"_Mama, why do his legs bend backwards?"_

"_**He doesn't have any fur except on his head! And where on earth are his ears?"**_

"_He's really warm, mama, how is he warm like sunbeams?"_

"_He smells like the Hot Deathplace, mama. Did he go there and come back?_

"_**No, it smells more like he came FROM it. Does anything live in the Hot Deathplace?"**_

"_Maybe. There's another smell too, almost…almost like OURS, mama, but different. Bigger. And meaner."_

"_That,"_ Grimmjow rumbled softly from deep in his chest, _"is because when I want to be, I AM bigger and meaner, and black, but a whole lot like you. My tail's much longer, though."_ The kits squealed in surprise, one clawing his shoulder, at his abrupt speech in their tongue. He peeled open one blue eye with a grin, though he was careful not to show his teeth (that would be a threat display). _"Wanna see?"_ The kits scrambled off to give him room, wide-eyed and ears perked, and he let the transformation steal up his body, coming out the other side as a beautiful back panther, two small blue eye markings nearly hidden in his fur the only indication he wasn't a regular one. He was one of the rare children chosen to be blessed by the Panther God, and he had received that blessing in full. The Panther God was the protector of their desert tribe, and those lucky enough to be blessed by Him were those who were meant to lead the tribe. Such appointments to leadership were usually only required when an avertable great tragedy was due to come (as opposed to an unavoidable great tragedy, such as pestilence or a flood, which could be stopped by no man). Thus why Grimmjow was trying to navigate his way through the forest to speak to the King and Prince of the neighboring kingdom to forge a peaceful alliance- there had been many skirmishes on the border lately, and he wanted to halt things before it became a full-fledged war. The kingdom had superior firepower and greater numbers, but the tribe could use absolutely every aspect of the desert and the creatures in it to their advantage, and no matter who won, it would be devastating for both sides, and whatever was left wouldn't be worth defending when another, even stronger nation decided to start a campaign against them while they were weak and recovering.

However, this form seemed far better suited to the landscape, and he was resting anyway so it was permissible to play with a kits a little. He teased them with his tail, mostly, as they were so little his paws were bigger than their entire bodies and he was afraid to touch them with anything else. They soon became sleepy and hungry however, and their mother called them back to the den for food and a nap. Alone now, he climbed back to his feet and began to lope, and found it was much, MUCH easier now. It was time to find the Prince he had come to see. Though not yet coroneted, the Prince was apparently running the kingdom as the King, after the Queen's death, had become indecisive and could not be trusted to run the day-to-day doings and was now only consulted for very serious matters. His best bet was the find the Prince out riding in the forest, which was his favorite activity when he was not busy ruling in his father's stead. He would know the Prince the second he saw him, Grimmjow had been informed by the liaison, because the young man's hair shone with the colors of sunlight and his horse was a pure white Arabian of the largest breed. An albino Arabain. Heh. Only a Prince would ride a creature so frivolous.

Said creature later proved not to be so frivolous as the Arabian lived up to the rumors of being the best kind of war-horse beneath an equally well-war-trained human as the Panther King dodged deadly sharp hoofs half the size of his head that moved in tandem with a swinging sword-tip to leave him pinned in from both sides and forced to run the way they were herding him if he didn't want to die. He was relieved indeed when the attacks ceased immediately upon his return to human form and the Prince offered a sincere apology for trying to drive him straight back into the desert after he spent almost a week struggling to reach Keeva in the first place.

103. Birthday

He honestly hadn't known what to expect. Had no idea at all. Least of all had he thought his lover would actually _forget_ his birthday entirely. The night had progressed the way it usually did when he got home- he made dinner, greeted his blue-haired executive lover at the door with a kiss, ate, showered, and went to bed for a good fuck. Standing against the balcony and smoking a cigarette (he'd quite smoking last month, but _fuck it_ he needed one right now), he sighed out silvery smoke and watched the large cloud separate into dozens of silvery strands that glowed in the moonlight. He couldn't be angry at him, not really, not with what Grimmjow had been going through at work lately. He wasn't even disappointed; it wasn't like he'd actually bothered to _remind_ the overworked, stressed-out businessman, so what had he really expected? The man never remembered anything, not even to _eat_, how could he remember something as trivial as the date of his live-in-boyfriend's birthday? He scowled. More like live-in-boy-_toy_, really, he didn't do much else than cook and clean and let the man have his way with his body. Scowling much deeper now, reminded of the insecurities he'd been burying for almost a year and a half, he finished the cigarette and went to put it out in his customary way by grinding the cherry into the gnarled scar on the underside of his left wrist when abruptly a larger, paler hand grabbed his wrist. That hand's pair plucked the slowly burning filter from his fingers and ground it out on the balcony railing with such force it was nearing violence. "I thought ya quit."

Ichigo sighed deeply; it was just his luck to get caught. Grimmjow was adamant he quit, and had been since they'd gotten together. He hated the way Ichigo put them out, even if the burn scar was now beyond ever healing fully or regaining feeling. "Going cold turkey is hard." The blunet threaded their fingers together, silent, but Ichigo could feel the thunderous aura around him. "Ya smoke when yer stressed. Don' dodge me." Silently, he cursed the mans' perceptiveness. "Just some stupid thoughts again."

Grimmjow tried not to clench his teeth. "Just some stupid thoughts" had been what caused Ichigo to attempt to break up with him _three times_. And they had in the past increased him to a pack and a half a day- his wrist had been black-skinned with soot and burnt flesh for a month. It was still new-flesh pink right now, and he raised it to his mouth to kiss it. But Ichigo was a disturbingly closed-off person, and never talked about his insecurities or issues, he never said what he was thinking or what worried him. Shit, until he'd come home two hours late one night after a night dive (SCUBA-diving was a favorite activity when he was looking to de-stress) to find Ichigo curled on the couch with his pillow and a dirty t-shirt, eyes still red-rimmed from crying, he'd never known that Ichigo was terrified of him drowning on one of his dives. That was the first time he'd come to realize how much his lover kept to himself. Ichigo's mother drowned when he was eight while she was diving and her equipment failed; she had been a marine biologist studying the local reef (and Grimmjow had to find this out from Tatsuki, the only living soul Ichigo had told, while he was still shell-shocked and couldn't think to keep it secret). He'd never been late if he could help it when on a dive again. Ichigo had never told him because he didn't want to ask Grimmjow to change, he'd said, which was the only reason he hadn't stopped diving entirely. Since he didn't know Ichigo's squicks, he tried to tread softly.

"Come ta bed. You have the early shift tomorrow, don'tcha?" Ichigo sighed in relief that Grimmjow wasn't prodding for an explanation, but he knew it would come eventually. He wasn't a patient man, and he wouldn't consent to put up with Ichigo's 'stupid thoughts' for too much longer. He settled into his designated spot in the bed, the side closest to the door. He got up first in the morning, which was how they'd parceled out who slept where. Grimmjow wasn't one for contact during sleep; he'd kicked Ichigo clear out of the bed a couple of times. Abruptly, two big, warm arms wrapped around his waist and dragged him in, until he was pressed up against an equally big and warm chest, his head comfortably fit into the hollow beneath Grimmjow's chin. Ichigo sleepily smiled. He knew he'd end up back on the floor come morning, but he appreciated the attempt to comfort him.

It wasn't until he woke up alone and cold the next morning (as usual) and glanced at the calendar to check what day it was that he realized yesterday- which had a big black slash through it, Ichi did that every morning so Grimmjow would always know the date when he left the house- had a tiny red star in the corner, half covered by the black line. Ichigo used that symbol to mark personal event days, like a vacation, or an anniversary, or a…birthday. Fuck! How could he have forgotten Ichigo's _birthday_ when it was the only time he was allowed to spoil his lover with everything he'd ever even glanced at with want over the year? Ichigo always used the other holidays to pamper Grimmjow to an obscene degree, so his birthday was the single time of year he could pay him back. He knew Ichigo had doubts- there were always doubts at the start of a relationship, and Ichigo being so withdrawn, they'd never talked them over and cleared them away. His birthday was his yearly day to assuage those doubts. Oh, this would not do, not at all, this had to be fixed, right _fucking_ now! Flipping open his cell, he called in to work that he was using his sick day- and he was sick enough to his stomach to sound quite convincing- before getting on the horn to Ichigo's favorite, and exceedingly expensive, restaurant. He'd set up something magnificent for this weekend and use the excuse that he knew Ichigo wouldn't want to skip work and thus he waited for the man's day off to celebrate. Though he'd have to admit to forgetting to actually say 'happy birthday' on the day, and hopefully he'd be forgiven.

104. Power

When it came down to sheer power levels, Ichigo was stronger than Grimmjow, especially with his mask on. The only thing that made him weaker was his inability to harness and use that power; as a hollow struggling to survive, Grimmjow had learned to use every ounce and trickle of power available to him until there literally _was nothing left_. Still, Ichigo's ability to pull extra power seemingly out of his pores usually got him victory, and Grimmjow had realized recently it was a crude strategy, the only kind someone with as little control over their reiatsu as Ichigo could employ. He would match his power to his opponent's as closely as possible, then draw on extra power when his enemy had reached the end of his last ounce of strength and beat them into the ground. Now as Ichigo's more-or-less property, he stalked the currently powerless shinigami and grinned. As his reiatsu slowly built back up and he regained his abilities, Grimmjow would put him through his paces just the same way the panther had been put through his own. By the time he reached his former power levels and was Grimmjow's rightful Master again, he would know for a fact that Kurosaki would know how to use all that power of his properly. In the meantime, the panther would keep feeding him bits of his own reiatsu when nobody was looking to force his shinigami power to come back. It was working too- in order to fight off the invading reiatsu, Ichigo's sealed power would bust past the seal, weakening it more every time. Already he'd regained the ability to see spirits. It was only a matter of time, and Grimmjow had plenty of that. Kurosaki's power would rise again.

105. Petsitting

Finding his arms abruptly full of angry adult cat, Ichigo could barely register Yoruichi (the cat's owner) shouting a quick thanks as she bolted out the door and the young man struggled not to drop the cat on its' head. After five minutes and copious scratches and bites, he managed to locate the cat's scruff and suspend him by it, scowling at the little blue-gray monster that glared right back, body limp and paws submissively tucked in. He glanced down and found the supplies that apparently belonged to him- litter box, food and water dishes, and both dry and wet foods, along with a scratching post and a cat bed that looked as if it was rarely used. Ichigo blinked, looked back at the cat, and sighed. "You must be Grimmjow then. Yoruichi said you were intelligent, so I'm laying down the rules now. Don't cause me trouble. Don't break my things. Don't claw up my house. Don't piss anywhere other than your litter box, and don't shit anywhere else either. Stay out of the way while I get your stuff set up. If you break any rule, I will put you into the freezing cold basement and lock the door so you can't get out for at least an hour." No movement from the cat, but it's eyes gleamed, and he considered him suitably understanding of the rules, so he set him down on the floor and gathered up his stuff to start getting everything ready for his month-long visitor. Half an hour later, food and water bowls were filled, litter box was clean and full, scratching post was near a few toys he'd found in a bag in the living room, and he showed the cat the shady, out-of-the-way corner that housed the litter box so he'd know where it was. The books said you were supposed to do that.

The cat had more or less calmly trailed behind him the entire time, but as soon as he put his hands on his hips and declared himself done, the little demon attacked his ankles with all the viciousness of his bigger cousins. This continued over the day- bursts of nearly angelic behavior shortly followed by bouts of absolutely devilish acts. After a while, he caught on. That cat _was_ exceptionally smart- the 'good' behavior was when there was a rule that would have been otherwise broken, and the 'bad' things he did were all things Ichigo had never forbidden him to do. It was amazing, truly. And when Ichigo very sternly and seriously told him to wait a while, the cat did so, and came around to check on him about thirty minutes later. If he was finished with whatever task he'd been attending to, the cat promptly jumped up and clawed him for attention, and if he hadn't the tom would turn around and leave to check on him again another half hour later. It was almost eerie how intelligent he was. Things didn't change until it was time for bed. The moment he announced he was shutting down the house for sleep, the cat streaked off somewhere. He found out the cat had commandeered his spare pillow when he got into bed himself, and was curled up as if he'd been laying there for hours, the deep rumble of a contented purr echoing around the room.

In two weeks' time, they'd successfully acclimated to each other. The tomcat, Grimmjow as Yoruichi had named him, now knew all the workings and habits of the man with sun-hair like he knew the taste of his own fur. He had a certain scent when he wasn't to be bothered, and he didn't mind pain, didn't even seem to notice it really, so he was free to claw the human up as much as he liked. And _did_ he claw him up! There wasn't a patch of available skin on the human that wasn't marked by his claws- well, except for his pretty brown eyes and, of course, his genitals. No matter how mean he was feeling, he'd never put his claws _there_, not even on the prissy show cat Aizen who thought he was a God. Fuckin' Abyssinians. Just because the humans in Egypt had been stupid enough to worship that particular breed centuries ago…no matter, he'd still never claw anybody there. Not even Aizen. He could nap when he wanted and where (except for on top of the human's head, which was a rather soft ready-made nest; the sun-haired one didn't stay still long enough unless he was settling down for the Nesting Time After Dark) and was allowed free run of the house as long as he obeyed the rules, which he was careful of because this was not his own territory. Besides, changing into his bigger form wouldn't even help if he was put into the cold-stone Underground Den for misbehaving, and while exploring down there to find spiders, flies, and the occasional mouse to hunt was fun, being trapped there for a long time with the coldness biting at his sensitive pw pads would be horrible.

He hadn't been put down there yet, but while stupider cats may have written off the human's threat as nothing more than a puff-display, he knew the human had been very serious. It hadn't been a threat- it had been a neutral warning. When the sun-human said he was going to do something, especially something in relation to others, he damn well did it. He'd tested this when the human had been doing something with the clicky-stone, the one that was attached to the flat, portable picture box. The human had given him fair warning that if he went walking over the stone, which he called a "kii-boord", that the human would pick him up and banish him to the kitchen until he was done. Grimmjow had walked on the stone, and his paws had barely hit four clicky things (the "kiis", apparently) when he was picked up, carried, put in the kitchen, and the door closed. A nap-worth of time later, the door opened once again the flat picture box and attached clicky-stone had been put away, indicating the much larger being had finished using it. Over the course of the half-moon the human had thus earned his respect, even if it did irritate him sometimes when he wanted to nap or play with the human and he was busy with some other obligation. What he hated the most though, was when he went _away_. Sometimes, during the day, he would change his normal, comfortable furs for stained, ragged ones that looked like they'd been through a bad fight, and whenever he did that, he _left the territory_.

He would come back smelling of sweat and pain and usually frustration as well, dirty and tired, furs even more ragged and stained than they had started. Even washing the furs in the Metal Rumbling Box didn't get them fully clean, though at least they didn't stink afterward, and the human would have to wash his furless, vulnerable body in the Warm Rain with the scented stuff that rinsed away all other scent, both good and bad. Sometimes he would even have to go through the whole thing twice in a day! The biggest problem was it seemed the Sun-hair was unable to avoid or refuse this thing he left to do, and there was no way to know when he would be leaving or, when he left, how long it would take him to return. Sometimes, he left in the morning, and he might be back after the span of a nap or he could take half the day. If he left at night, usually either he came back quickly or didn't come back at all until after the next sunrise. Grimmjow hated the uncertainty. It left his territory unguarded, except for Grimmjow, for long spans of time, and it made his human tired and weak for a while until he could recuperate. His old human didn't do that- she left at the same time every morning and returned every night at the same time, as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun unless there was sickness or an emergency. Still, he could be comfortable here. This new human took care of him well, let him do most of the things he wanted and even gave him affection.

Entering the third week, he had noticed that the cat had become much more affectionate and cuddly than he had started out. Oh, he still scratched and bit when he was displeased, but now he often draped himself over Ichigo's leg or shoulders, even curled in his lap to knead and purr as he napped. He even stopped snarling when Ichigo showed signs of forgetting his appointed mealtime, instead usually choosing to climb onto his shoulder and nip at his ear or cheek until he got up and gave him his daily ration of wet food. The cat hadn't stopped sleeping in his hair, but he figured that was a sign of affection for this particular cat, and let it be. At the end of the month, when Yoruichi came to retrieve her cat and take him back to his rightful home, the human was sad to see him go and the cat, by all appearances, did _not_ want to leave. He hid and ran, and when caught he yowled and scratched and bit with vehemence never before displayed as he was put into a carrier and the door latched securely closed. The carrier itself now bore some pretty nasty claw marks and holes punched by angry teeth, and once he realized he wouldn't be escaping pitiful cries replaced the snarls and hisses, occasionally rising into a mournful yowl not unlike the howl of a dog. As the purple-haired woman collected the rest of the supplies and put them in her car, Ichigo hefted the carrier up into his lap and bent so Grimmjow could see his face through the bars. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "but you were never mine. I'm not allowed to-" his voice broke, "to keep you. I'll miss you, Grimmjow."

The cat used his claws to cling to the bars. 'Grimmjow', that was his name, wasn't it? Sun-human never used his name, just called him 'cat', because he was the only other living creature in the house. Mewing his sadness at being forced to leave, because he was only put into this portable prison when he had to leave and didn't want to, he licked the only available part of his human- his nose. Why had his old human returned after abandoning him, he didn't understand, but he knew from what his new human said she would be his human again. He would lose the sun-haired male. "I hate to see you go, but I knew it would happen," he whispered, and suddenly Grimmjow understood- the human had never actually been his. He was just the replacement, the kitten-watcher, who took the female human's place while she was gone visiting her own kittens. The past moon would be all they got. His nose twitched at the smell of salt, and he spied the Sad Water glistening in the sun-human's eyes for an instant before it was gone. He was strong, and never let the Sad Water spill. Then he straightened and took a strengthening breath as his Woman Cat human took his prison and loaded him into the moving box on wheels. Sinking his claws into the blanket his Sun Human was kind enough to line the prison with, Grimmjow laid down stiffly and curled his tail along his side. He would find a way back to his Sun Human, one way or another. Even if he had to go out the squirrel-hole in the roof and make his way across the whole damned world, he would get back to that house and that man.

106. Adolescent (Sequel to Child)

By the time Ichigo and Grimmjow were into their teens, they were nearly inseparable. Grimmjow was still loud and tended to talk for Ichigo, but that was alright because Ichigo was still quiet and didn't like to talk, and the pair knew each other well enough that they could accurately speak for each other. They hung out together, had lunch and classes together, and worked together too. Any objections were soon vehemently overridden; when they tried to separate them in classes Ichigo became three times as withdrawn, so quiet and still you had to look long and hard to be sure he was even breathing, even his writing silent rather than the scratch of pencil on paper, and when Grimmjow found out, all his classes were promptly abandoned while he instead went to Ichigo's, glued to the introspective teen's side. Ichigo didn't talk for three months after that, and Grimmjow had been extra loud to make up for it- the school didn't try to separate them again. When it came to work, they only ever applied to places that had two positions open, and if one got the job and the other didn't, the position was promptly turned down. At work, they didn't mind taking different positions as long as they weren't very far apart in case they needed each other. Attempts by bosses to separate them resulted in either immediate quitting or fits of violent destruction of property that only Ichigo could calm Grimmjow from before he started to hurt people. Their parents had seen the results of others, and didn't think anything wrong with their closeness that resembled twins, and so never tried to intervene.

The only thing they _didn't_ do together was date. Neither of them dated the same person, nor did they go on dates together or even separately take their dates to the same place. Their styles of dating were also radically different. Ichigo, around the end of middle school, had quietly gotten together with his other childhood friend Chad, and had been dating him ever since, now nearing graduation. Grimmjow, on the other hand, dated someone new every week and had been in a relationship with most of the school (and at least a quarter of the faculty) at one time or another and didn't seem to have a preference. Unknown to Ichigo, Grimmjow warned anyone he dated the same way- it would only last one week, because he always knew he was going to marry someone else someday and was trying to get all the 'wild' out of his system and find out how to handle people, what he wanted in a relationship, and the things one had to do to make a relationship work _before_ he settled so it would be a success. And while he never stated it explicitly, everyone knew the 'one' he intended to marry in the future was Ichigo. Chad and Ichigo had their own understandings on the situation and had come to an agreement a long time ago. Ichigo was a loyal person if nothing else, and Chad had agreed to never becoming physical with their relationship, that being saved for Grimmjow. Kissing and cuddling was as far as they went. They were close though, and while they had never planned the relationship to be permanent it was lasting very well. Grimmjow never knew that he was in that relationship as a permanent third- their relationship revolved around his relationship with Ichigo.

Ichigo, being the withdrawn individual he was, waited for Grimmjow to approach him seriously. They had a way of doing things where they kissed and touched, much like he did with Chad, but nothing was official. It didn't 'count'. So Ichigo waited, making himself happy with Chad in the meantime. He waited, in fact, right up until the week after graduation when Grimmjow got down on one knee in a restaurant where he'd taken Cirucci Thunderwitch (who was the only person he'd dated more than once; they'd been having an on-again-off-again relationship since early middle school) and asked her to marry him. She said yes.

Grimmjow realized the rules had changed when, newly married at nineteen, Ichigo refused his lips and his hands for the first time in their young lives. He had known Ichi and the rest of the world took things like marriage seriously, but not _that_ seriously, not with such high rates of divorce. It was only at that point that he began to suspect his practicing had gone too far and it would no longer be considered practice; the world, and more importantly, Ichigo, now considered him serious and settled.

Adolescence was a bitch.

107. Confusion

This was what human war was. A mass of death, blood, screaming, and confusion. And the spirits left behind, it was all so fucked up. Ichigo hadn't gotten any real rest since he'd started his tour three years ago and been shipped out to the front lines. He'd moved to America to escape all that had happened in the war he'd fought, only to find his new home threatened. Being the warrior he was, how could he not have fought? Human war was much crueler and messier than a spiritual one- at least there hadn't been many corpses in the last war. Hollows dissolved back into spirit particles that condensed in soul society as the original souls, and most of the downed soul reapers were either eaten or revived before they could die. The remaining bodies soon dissolved into spirit particles when the soul was reborn, though they were given funerals and buried for the comfort and closure of the survivors. Ichigo had been lucky that time- he had not been expected to help with the cleanup, and (miraculously) nobody he knew or cared about had died. Even if he'd temporarily lost his shinigami powers, even if Aizen had threatened all he knew and killed hundreds, that first war had been quick, clean, and resulted in minor losses.

In this new war he was fighting, nothing was sacred and no-one was spared. He was starting to become known among his allies as the Immortal, irritatingly enough, but he couldn't really blame them. Four times his unit had gone to the front and engaged the enemy directly, and four times he had been the only man to come back alive, though never unscathed. His left eye had been badly gouged, and the emergency surgery to try and repair it resulted in success in saving his vision- but with the side effect that bright light, especially such as sunlight, burned the eye with excruciating pain. He had to wear a seven-layered black eye patch unless it was night and there were few lights on. His night vision, which had always been above average, was now on level with a night predator such as a tiger. A broken right wrist and a lot of surgery resulted in deep pains in that wrist and hand whenever the weather shifted, though thankfully he hadn't lost any mobility. Two broken collarbones and countless fractured ribs had plagued his lungs until operation and removal of two ribs was utilized. The worst wound was his leg- a little too late to escape a thrown grenade, his left leg from mid-thigh down was gone. Completely gone. He used a prosthetic now, but when his tour ended he planned to go to Orihime and beg her to heal him. The other wounds he could live with, but that one… to fight higher hollows, he needed his top speed. He needed that leg. But the hollows, the battlefields were infested with them.

Every night, when his unit or battalion or camp settled, and he wasn't on watch duty, he would struggle out of his mortal body and go to kill hollows and send on souls. The battlefields were beyond packed with souls, from battles both old and new, and some of them turned Hollow right before his eyes. It was his duty to tend to them. The souls from older wars were sent first, as they were the most likely to become hollows, and sometime the fields were so thick with them it took two or three nights to clear them all. The only good thing about it was it gave him a chance to pass on messages to the departed and say goodbye to his friends and brothers-in-arms before they moved on. He usually cried. So did they. Nobody else ever said anything. A lieutenant now, he had become used to barking orders, and used that to his advantage when rounding up and rallying the spirits. It went much faster when he did that. It was night now, and he was on a new-old battlefield once again, looking at lost faces both familiar and strange and trying not to let his painful tears emerge. "ATTEN-SHUN!" Every solider in the field who had been in the American military at any point snapped to attention, spine going ramrod and hand coming up in a salute as his or her eyes stared straight ahead. "FALL IN, EAST FIELD LINE!" "Sir, yes, Sir!" They shouted, already running to where he had indicated.

He stood waiting for them, in his shinigami garb, though now they had changed from pristine black and white to army camouflage. The traditional sandals and socks had been switched for sturdy combat boots and thick protective socks, and the billowing hakama smoothed instead to resemble army fatigues. His kosode and gi were the same except the sleeves, which now trimmed close to his wrists. Zangetsu was the only thing that remained without a single adjustment. "Lieutenant Kurosaki, sir!" Ichigo nodded to him- it was time to get to business. "What is it, soldier?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Permission granted."

"Sir, are we…are we dead?"

Ichigo's scowl was firmly in place. "Indeed you are, soldier, indeed you are. Very dead, in fact. I was the one who collected your body this afternoon, Jackson. I will only explain this once, so LISTEN UP," he suddenly thundered, knowing that thanks to thorough training his shout and tone would grab the attention of all the troops immediately, "DEAD SPIRITS LEFT EARTHBOUND TOO LONG BECOME SOUL-EATING CREATURES CALLED HOLLOWS! I, A SHINIGAMI, KILL HOLLOWS AND SEND ON SOULS TO THE AFTERLIFE! BRING THE REST OF THE SPIRITS HERE, THE OLDEST FIRST AND NEWEST LAST, SO I CAN CLEAN UP THIS HELLHOLE, AM I UNDERSTOOD?"

"_SIR YES SIR!"_

"THEN GET TO IT, TROOPS!" Off they went. Their training had been thorough- don't question if there's little reason to, just obey your superiors.

"Well, well, well…" All the hair on the back of Ichigo's neck stood up as warm breath breezed over the sensitive, vulnerable flesh. "I come down here because I see a _zanpakuto_ with those fatigues and, my, my, I don't find JUST a shinigami, oh no…I find me THE shinigami, one Kurosaki…_brat_."

Ichigo ground his teeth. "Buzz off, _kitty_, I have a job to do and the morning shift. I don't have time to do anything other than clean up this field." He wasn't surprised Grimmjow had found a way to survive. Animals tended to do that.

"Well, until you do have time, you have yourself a _kitty_ stalker, boy. Get used to me."

Two months later, said 'kitty stalker' desperately searched the writhing mass of confusion for one head of sunset-orange hair, scared beyond belief that he'd lost him until out of the confusion began to come order. He made his way toward the origin point of that order, because the only one who could make sense of the mess and confusion was the one he was looking for.

108. Vacation

It hadn't been hard, not really. To just…leave. Disappear. It had been easier than he thought, in truth, he had thought someone would…notice. That someone would, well, care. Three weeks into his impromptu vacation, three weeks from when he had just dropped everything in his life and went away to who-the-hell-knew-where, and nobody had even tried to get in touch with him, or track him, or…even just confirm he was alive. It was disgusting really. He looked down at his hands, his precious hands…or they had been precious. Artist's hands. Doctor's hands. Now they were imbedded with metal shavings and splinters and small stones and small unidentifiable things and they _hurt_. They weren't in good shape. If he could pick up a brush, or even a pencil, he'd be surprised. This job in the steel mill was the only he could get, with his foreign accent and oddly-colored hair, and it was like living in hell. The only good thing about working here was he could sleep behind a scrap heap and not freeze to death in the winter cold, and the minimum wage was enough that he could eat and occasionally buy clothing. He would work a few more days, get his last check, and move on again. This was his vacation, after all. He should see more places. He had just gotten to his feet and started to shuffle tiredly toward his scrap pile when a big, hard hand on his shoulder yanked him around. "Kurosaki? Kurosaki!"

Without warning, he was scooped up into a pair of large, warm arms and he weakly tried to struggle; he was quickly pinned to an unforgiving chest. "Oh god, Kurosaki, yer alive…yer alive! I knew it! Fer th'love of the stars, Kurosaki, don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!" The next thing he knew was a blue blur and he was slung over a broad, unforgiving shoulder, waving a weak goodbye to those he'd somewhat befriended who also worked in the mill as he was hauled out. He was too tired to fight right now. Besides, there was only one person who swore by the 'love of the stars', and that blue-haired menace could kick his ass. "Yer comin' home wit' me," the muscle-bound Kendo teacher snarled, voice thick with rage and accent, "an' yer gunna explain wha' th'fuck yer was thinkin', runin' off like tha'. 'Vacation' 'e says…" The man continued to grumble as he stuffed the young man into his car and hauled him back to their small town, only pausing to alternatively ask gentle questions about his condition or snarl at his stupidity.

109. Decisions

When he looked down at his side in the bed, Grimmjow always wondered if it would last. This entire relationship had hinged on _his _decisions, really. He'd decided to live after Ichigo had spared him, and he'd decided to seek out the shinigami after he'd healed. It was his choice to jump in a help when he'd seen the now-human male getting jumped in an alley, and his choice to allow Ichigo to see him after he regained the ability to see spirits. It had been he who initiated the sexual relationship after reading the strongly suppressed desire and affection in his scent and movements, and it had been he who pushed for more than just sex, though Ichigo had been more relieved than resistant. And he knew, any time he decided he wasn't happy anymore and left, Ichigo would let him go without so much as a word of protest. Every night he mused on these decisions, and if they had been worth it. Every night thus far, he'd decided they had. For the first time, he wondered about Ichigo's decisions. He's chosen to keep him alive. He'd decided not to fight his feelings and let Grimmjow in whole-heartedly and without hesitation. And he'd decided to give Grimmjow the control in their relationship, in all areas. Grimmjow controlled the sex, he controlled what they did, who they saw, and where they lived, even what they ate, and he controlled the relationship's very existence. Thinking about it that way, he had to wonder why Ichigo put up with him and being so thoroughly controlled… and he realized being controlled was another decision Ichigo had made. Recently he'd been a little listless and despondent, more going through the motions of enjoying life than really being happy. That concerned Grimmjow. He wondered if Ichigo hadn't anticipated the sheer extent of Grimmjow's control over their shared lives, and was resigning himself to that decision.

If he was, Grimmjow would fix it. Ichigo didn't go back on his decisions, so if he regretted one (which usually didn't happen) he suffered through the consequences. His next big decision, he told himself firmly, would be to give Ichigo more control over his own life and hope it wasn't too late and leave him lost without guidance. He would make it right again, and he would start with the sex, just like he had the first time. Tomorrow, he'd do whatever _Ichigo_ told _him_ for a change.

110. Phone

WARNING: DARK, SERIOUS EMOTIONAL DISTRESS AND CHARACTER DEATH AHEAD

Grimmjow hated phones. He had for years, and nobody knew why, but the weird part was- he had a cell phone that he kept very close and safe. He wouldn't even let other people touch it, and dispose of it? He'd crack you across the jaw if you suggested it. His daughter, Tia, was the only person alive who knew what that cell phone meant, and why he cared about it so much. It held three things that made it precious- a picture, a voicemail, and a single video.

_She was only seven, but she knew something was special about Daddy's cell phone. He never lost sight of it, and nobody was allowed to touch it. So she'd asked. He'd made her promise not to tell Mommy, but Mommy didn't care anyway. She couldn't tell Daddy that Mommy was evil though, and was a liar and a fake because she was afraid Daddy would make her leave, because if she told Daddy that he might do something bad. He did that when he found out people were lying to him. Anyway, after she promised never to tell, he settled in bed beside her and flipped open the phone with a smooth, practiced motion. He used it at least once a day, usually in the bathroom, because he always cried afterward. The picture on it was of him and a beautiful man with short, bright orange hair, and they were hugging and laughing, hair everywhere and hands clasped, faces red and eyes ablaze with something she didn't know and couldn't name. Tia knew right away the man was special- Daddy only held hands with her. Mommy and anyone else weren't allowed._

_The video she didn't see until she was thirteen and had her first sex ed. class under her belt. Only then did her father let her see it, after warning her that it would probably gross her out._

_The orange-haired man was dressed up in lots of leather and buckles and silver rings, and a blush that was the color of a fire truck. He was swearing loudly about how her Daddy had better make 'this' up to him later, but his pretty brown eyes had gone dark and what she thought her romance books called 'sultry'. Whatever it was, it made both her and Daddy shiver hard. He then set the phone on a stand, the camera still facing him, and… well. There really weren't words for the things he did, but watching it made her feel hot and tingly and at the end he sat in a huge chair with leather and silver rings that matched the ones he was wearing and crossed his legs at the knee like a girl (though it didn't look girly when he did it) and grinned evilly. His teeth looked sharp when he did that. She had thought on her Daddy knew how to do that to his teeth. Then he said, "And I'll be right here when you get home, so no staying late at the office tonight, got it? Otherwise…I know a couple other businessmen who would be just as interested to hurry home to me as you are, I'm sure." Snapping the phone shut, Daddy had to run to the bathroom again._

_The voicemail she only became aware of when she was nineteen, shortly after she accidentally backed the car over their family cat, Pantera. As she sobbed inconsolably, her father came to her with his battered old phone and flipped it open. "Yer not the only one who's killed someone she loves," he whispered, flipping to speaker and accessing his voicemail. The voice of the orange-haired man whose name Tia still didn't know began to play, filled with more sadness than she'd ever heard in the voice of one person. "Hey Grimm. I know I said I'd see you at home, but…something's come up." Tia, oddly, heard wind whistling. "There's been an accident. A drunk driver…out on highway sixty-three, he…um," Tia heard metal groan in the background, "I love you, you know I love you right? More than life itself. I love you so much, Grimmjow Jagerjaques, and don't you _dare_ ever forget it, you hear me? No matter what happens, I'll always love you, I-" The scream of metal tearing cut him off, and the message ended. Closing the phone again, her father looked at it hard, voice breaking as he cried. "He got hit by that drunk driver on his way home fer our anniversary. He was out by a cliff an' careened straigh' past th' metal guard on the side from how hard he got hit, an' he made tha' call while th'front half of his car dangled over the cliff side. Tha' road is way out in th'middle o' nowhere, so he knew – he knew nobody would come fast enough to rescue him. It cuts off there because…because he shut his phone. He din't…he din't wan' me ta hear th'crash."_

So nobody ever touched that phone, ever, and he still listened to that message every day. He watched the video from time to time as well. And he hated all phones, except for the battered old one that held the last message, picture, and video he would ever have of the love of his life. They still couldn't figure out why.

Grimmjow despised phones for one simple reason- they sometimes malfunctioned. His cell phone at one point had had every single byte dedicated to his love, with pictures they had taken and videos of anniversaries and birthdays and Christmases and his voicebox had been as full as it got with messages that ranged from simple "bring home take-out for dinner, I'm too damn tired to cook" messages to "I've got a surprise waiting- and don't forget your high-heeled boots, _Gwenivere_". After a drastic malfunction, the only retrievable records the company could get for him were the last of each; the ones right before he died.

Grimmjow _hated_ phones.

A/N I'm sure you lot weren't expecting anymore on this from me, were you? Guesssssss What! This, ladies and gentlemen, is my celebration of GrimmIchi day and I've been working on it for FOR-FUCKING-EVER so I'm happy to get it up on this most fortuitous day. Now, if you all will excuse me, I'm going to rake over the most recent GrimmIchi's that were put up in honor of this day. Enjoy!

~Silva


	13. Prompt Progress

100 PROMPT CHALLENGE

Romance (Multi-part, complete)

Whore (Complete)

Pet (Multi-part, complete)

Neighbor (Complete)

School (Complete)

Food (Complete)

Boating (Complete)

Flying (Complete)

Best Friends (Multi-part, complete)

Music (Complete)

Booze (Romance universe, prequel, complete)

Gargoyle (Multi-part, complete)

Doctor (Complete)

Teacher (Complete)

Reincarnation (Complete)

War (complete)

Rebel (Complete)

Riot (Complete)

Bruises(Complete)

Rider(Multi-part, Complete)

Battle (Complete)

Anger (Romance Universe, sequel, Complete)

Meeting (Complete)

Lost (Gargoyle universe, sequel, Complete)

Noise (Complete)

Wild (Complete)

Animals (Complete)

Run (Pet Universe, sequel, Complete)

Protect (Complete)

Serve (Rider universe, prequel, Complete)

Butler (Complete)

Cops and Robbers (Complete; WARNING: DARK)

Fight (Romance Universe, sequel, Complete)

Slave (Complete)

Accept (Complete)

Tears (In Progress)

Broken (Complete; WARNING: DARK)

Wings (Gargoyle Universe, between Gargoyle and Lost, WARNINGS: mind fuckery, mentions of past rape and torture)

Pure (Complete)

Visitor (Complete, mild warnings of brief mention of torture)

Religion(Complete)

Family (Complete, sort-of sequel)

Shoes (Complete)

Gay (Complete)

Traditions (Complete)

Season (Complete, smut warning)

Series (Pet Universe, sequel, Complete)

Magic (Complete; Extra Long)

Prayer (Rider universe, sequel, Complete)

Promise (Romance universe, sequel, Complete)

Tells (Complete)

Growl (Complete)

Life (Complete)

Death (Complete)

Spartan (Complete)

Warrior (Sequel to Animals, Complete)

Dominance (Complete)

Heart (Complete)

Smile (Complete)

Hard (Complete)

Soft (Complete)

Property (Complete)

Manners (Complete)

Land (Complete)

Owner (Complete- punishment of Kitteh!Grimm 'cuz he mouthed off…_again_)

Belong (Complete, sort-of sequel)

Meow (Complete)

Submission (Complete: WARNING: mentioned of rape, sickness of mind)

Tails (Complete, inspired by BlackStorm's "Finally Found You…" with a catfish-merman-Grimmjow)

Child (First in 'Growing' trilogy, Complete)

Morning (Complete)

Hips (Complete, Gargoyle universe, prequel to Gargoyle)

Sting (Complete, sequel to Promise)

Pride (Complete, part of Romance series)

Flexible (Complete)

Play (Complete)

Reject (Complete)

Sweet (Complete)

Touch (Complete, continuation of Whore)

Virgin (Complete)

Fan Fiction (Complete)

Stories (Complete)

Classes (Complete, Continuation of 'Neighbors')

Contradictions (Complete)

Glasses (Complete)

Share (Complete)

Lies (Complete)

Mate (Complete, final part to Hybrid universe that includes 'Belong')

Marked (Complete)

Control (Complete)

Fox (complete)

Crossworlds (Complete; Gargoyle universe crossed with Bleach)

Bet (Complete)

Halloween (Complete)

Masochist (Complete)

Mine (Complete)

Yours (Complete)

Ours (Complete, Continuation of 'Masochist')

Hollow (Complete)

100. Patience (Complete, final part of Romantic series)

101. Alien (inspiration must be attributed to "Predator", a Ben Ten 'Bevin' story, Complete)

102. Prince (Complete)

103. Birthday (Complete)

104. Power (Complete(

105. Pet sitting (Complete, will have sequel maybe?)

106. Adolescent (Second in 'Growing' trilogy, Complete)

107. Confusion (Complete)

108. Vacation (Complete)

109. Decisions (Complete)

110. Phone(Complete, WARNING, DARK, EMOTIONAL DISTRESS)

111. Christmas

112. Role (sequel to Dominance)

113. Idol (Final in Rider series)

114. Truth (Sequel to Lies)

115. Adult (Third in 'Growing' trilogy)

116. Snow

117. Growth

118. Wish

119. Sharp

120. Passion

121. Kitten

122. Switch

123. Comedy

124. Objection

125. Sunstone

126. Ferreous (containing iron)

127. Monazite (yellowish-brown mineral)

128. Bemitleidenswert ("Deplorable" in German)

129. Pottery

130. Bewitchery

I am considering moving his page back to the beginning of the set rather than leaving it at the end, but that would involve changing shit around. What do you guys think?


	14. NOT A CHAPTER, PETITION

Have you heard? The owners of FanFiction are planning on taking down stories that have lemons! Apparently, they don't believe that stories that have such mature stuff should be allowed. Its not our fault that such things are interesting to us. If they wanted to do something, they would just make a MA rating category that contains stuff like that, bellow is a petition that is signed by authors who share the same feelings we do. Read it, Sign it, and Pass it on.

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its originalform, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

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Her Dark Poet

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Masamune X23

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Sliver Lynx

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Zero X Limit

SinX. Retribution

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Third Fang

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Single Silver Eye

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Daniel Lynx

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arturus

Iseal

Silvdra-Zero

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Leonineus

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Shadow Kurogane

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Guardian54

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Lover of A Good Story

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God Emperor Of GAR-halla

Warrior of Olympus

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BituMAN

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acepro Evolution

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The War Wizard

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Time Force Red

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Silver Eternity

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